


The Sixth Commandment

by Lost_And_Longing



Category: Undertale, Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: AU, Adult Frisk, Angst, But He Gets Better, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, PTSD, Pacifist Frisk, Promise, Sans Being An Asshole, Sans Remembers Resets, Slow Burn, Suicidal Thoughts, Trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2018-08-23
Packaged: 2019-02-17 10:07:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 24,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13074633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lost_And_Longing/pseuds/Lost_And_Longing
Summary: Kill or be killed.For five months, that is the life Frisk has lived. Underfell is harsh and cruel and rips even the smallest bit of color to pieces. Reset after reset, life after life, she's struggled through a world that only wants her dead. When she finally gives up, she finds herself back at the beginning once more, except this time, things are different....why don't the monsters want her dead?





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off, I'll be using CORE!Frisk at various points in the story. Neither the AU nor the character is of my own creation; all credit goes to @dokudoki. 
> 
> Second, I tagged this as Reader/Sans and Frisk/Sans mostly because the 'Frisk' I'm using in this story is kind of an OC. There are age differences, personality differences (although canon Frisk doesn't really have a personality, I'll admit), and differences in appearance. In addition, this Frisk is female, not nb. In many ways, this will be more like a reader insert or OC insert. Of course, there are some very Frisk-like things that will still be here, so...uh, I guess you should really just blame me for not being able to make up my mind? 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

Yellow.

She was surrounded by yellow as she woke up, light searing her eyes.

A shaft of light lit up her surroundings and gave the flowers she lay in an otherworldly glow. They were the sort of bright yellow one might expect to see in a movie or coloring book, the sort of yellow one wouldn't have thought possible unless one saw them in person. Wearily, she registered the flowers as buttercups. The air surrounding them was just as unexpectedly quiet as their color had been. It was almost holy, this quiet. Everything- the plants, the ground, the air itself- was peaceful and still.

Frisk sat up. Too still. It was like being in a graveyard.

The smell of the buttercups filled her nostrils, nauseatingly familiar. For a moment she just sat there, staring blankly at the darkened cave wall in front of her. Then she slowly slid her hands down her side, digging her fingers into the soft dirt. After a moment, the fingers clenched into a fist, before relaxing as she slowly sank back into the petals. A sob tore itself from her throat.

Not again. 

For five months, she'd been slaughtered in nearly every way possible by nearly every creature imaginable. She had created SAVE after SAVE, activated reset after reset, only to wake up in the same damned place once more. All her suffering, all her agony, all the hope she'd had that maybe this time could be different had been shattered once more. Just like the rest of her had been as that monster had thrown her fragile body against the ceiling. 

The odd thing was that she didn't remember attempting to reset. Her death had been so sudden she hadn't had time to think. By all rights, she should've simply loaded her last SAVE point, but for some reason, she hadn't. 

Well, she supposed that wasn't really the point, anyway. The point was that she'd reset somehow, and now she was once more at the beginning of the newest version of Hell. 

Frisk heaved a sigh, slowly sitting back up again. Maybe...maybe this time would be different, she tried to tell herself. Maybe this time she'd be able to hide up in some cave in Snowdin and escape the endless killing. Maybe this time, just one of the monsters would be nicer. Maybe they'd even spare her!

She drew herself to her feet and started walking. Two months ago, she might've held out that hope. But after roughly a dozen resets with no significant changes in the monsters, that hope had dwindled to scarcely more than a spark. One more reset and it would be extinguished. 

Frisk stepped into the next room, where a familiar flower awaited. Flowey had been the one friend she'd had during her play-throughs, but even he had been powerless against the other monsters. Every reset, as soon as Toriel approached, he'd had to hide. Frisk didn't expect this time to be any different. 

"Howdy! I'm Flowey! Flowey the flower!"

...she stood corrected.

"Flowey, it's me, Frisk," she said, staring down at him in confusion. "Remember? C'mon. You've never forgotten me after a reset yet."

"You're new to the Underground, aren't you?" Flowey continued, either not hearing her or intentionally ignoring her. "Golly, you must be so confused! Someone ought to teach you how things work around here!"

"I knowhow things work around here," Frisk huffed, crossing her arms. "It's kill or be killed." 

Whatever Flowey had been about to say, he stopped, freezing. His expression made a few rapid changes before landing on a confused frown. "How do you know that?" 

"Because I've been killed by these same monsters dozens of times." Her voice was tired now. "C'mon, Flowey. You're my only friend here. Please don't leave me." 

Perhaps she sounded pathetic, but she couldn't bring herself to care. After all, sooner or later, she'd be back here once more. It didn't really matter what she said or what she did, because everything would always end up the same way: with her body lying on the floor.

Flowey scoffed. "What a pathetic human. I don't even remember you at all! For all I know, you could be making this up. However, you're different, I'll give you that. At least you aren't boring like everyone else."

He paused, before giving her a terrifying grin. "In fact, you know what? I'll let you live just this once. Now, you should get going! Curtain call's in, oh, five seconds?" 

"Curtain call? What do you-" 

Pale blue flame erupted into the cavern, singeing Flowey and sending him flying. A tall, white goat monster appeared through the archway, that same fire on her palm and a fierce expression on her face. 

No. 

Never before had Toriel come so quickly, so mercilessly. Never before had Frisk been so unprepared to face her. 

Frisk only stared, frozen in mute horror, as Toriel approached, her flames casting flickering shadows that made her appear even more menacing. In other timelines, Frisk had been able to hide, or at least been able to construct some sort of weapon beforehand. Now she was defenseless. Compared to Toriel, she was as weak as a child. She hadn't even gotten the chance to save yet, which meant her only option was...

"What a terrible creature, torturing such a poor, innocent youth." 

Frisk slowly began to back away, fingers grasping for the rough stone of the wall behind her. There had to be another way out of this. Each reset caused her pain that was nigh-unbearable. She couldn't take that again. 

"W-Wait! What if I..." Frisk desperately searched her memories of Toriel for a way out. In many previous tries, Toriel hadn't initially tried to kill her. Instead, she'd almost acted...motherly. Much of the time, Toriel didn't attempt to kill her until she tried to leave the Ruins. 

"...Mom. I-I promise I won't leave the Ruins. I love you, okay?" 

She expected Toriel's psychotic eyes to swirl. She expected to hear Toriel's demented voice ask if she preferred mint or molasses pie. She expected Toriel to reach down and hug her, to get close enough that Frisk could see the patchy, worn fur on the monster's arms. 

None of that happened. Instead, she was given a confused, "Child? Have...have we met?" 

"N-No," Frisk stammered out, "But, uh, you seem so nice? Like you'd make the perfect mom." 

"Child..." 

Frisk finally gathered the courage to look up. 

Toriel's eyes weren't the hazy red-and-yellow Frisk had grown so accustomed to over the past months. They were dark brown, with the barest hint of warm red in the irises. That was...odd. And now that Frisk was looking, more and more differences jumped out at her. Gone were the flames Toriel had used on Flowey, but the memory of them was not. They'd been pale, almost ice blue, not the brilliant red of old. 

Even stranger, those weren't the only changes. Toriel's past garb of a red, frayed dress was gone, replaced by a soft blue dress with a lighter blue emblem embroidered on the front. Neither was her fur matted or sparse or missing in places. Instead, it was soft and almost shiny, as though it were well cared for. 

"My child, you are afraid, are you not?" 

But the biggest change by far was Toriel herself. Where were the unsettling stares and smiles? Where were the terrifying cackles? Where was the demented voice she used whenever she got into one of her fits?

"Please, do not be afraid. I mean you no harm." 

Frisk only stared, shocked out of her reverie. This monster, this creature who'd killed her over and over again, was telling her not to be afraid? No matter how much Toriel's outward appearance had changed, there was no way one reset could have changed her  _that_ much. 

She didn't hesitate. She bolted, ducking under Toriel's reaching arms, sprinting past her through the archway and into the next room. Behind her, she could hear Toriel pleading with her to come back, saying that she meant no harm and that she only wanted to protect Frisk. Frisk just ran up the stairs and into the next room.

Her side began to cramp up as she flew through the next corridor, flicking the labelled switches as fast as humanly possible before dashing onward. The next room, if she remembered correctly, had a dummy- for what purpose she'd never figured out- so she'd be able to get through there quickly. 

Toriel's footsteps echoed behind Frisk, far enough not to be an immediate concern but still much too close. She tried to talk to Frisk occasionally, yelling something about wanting to help every minute or so. But Frisk was not nearly dumb enough to be persuaded by that. She simply kept going, all the way to the large patch of metal spikes at the end of the next room.

That managed to stop her. She hadn't had to go through this puzzle on her own for at least four resets. It was difficult to remember how she'd gotten through it; all she could recall at the moment was stepping on the wrong tile at the wrong time and ending up with metal through her leg.

Toriel's footsteps got louder. Frisk was running out of time.

Grimly, she gathered her Determination and SAVED. Then she took one cautious step onto the tiles. 

The spikes retracted.

Frisk exhaled, heart pounding. She didn't have much time, but one wrong decision could end up with her impaled. Now that she'd focused on her previous reset's memories, her actions were coming back. She remembered reading the hint: "The western room is the eastern room's blueprint." She'd certainly traveled both rooms enough to know their paths by heart, so...

Another step. Another spike retracting. Another slow, deep exhale. 

"Child, please wait! It is dangerous!"

Toriel's voice was close enough that Frisk could hear it almost perfectly. She sped up her walking and very nearly ended up killing herself as a consequence; a quick jump backwards was the only thing that saved her.

She started shaking then. Whatever anger she might've normally had at herself for that was quickly forgotten once she remembered she was facing certain death no matter what she did. She couldn't remember how to traverse this puzzle. At the same time, neither could she wait for Toriel's approach. Whatever option she chose, she risked her life. 

Frisk closed her eyes and pictured the western room as clearly as she could. She took a deep breath. Edged her foot forward.

"Oh dear, oh dear, I do hope that poor child hasn't gotten herself into any trouble..." 

The spikes retracted.

The next few minutes Frisk spent in total concentration, tentatively testing each tile before she stepped on it. It was with a colossal sigh of relief that she finally crossed to the other side. 

Of course, that was the exact moment when Toriel appeared in view. She gasped at the scene, shooting frantic inquires about how Frisk had managed to cross and was she hurt? But Frisk only took off once more, more determined than ever to escape. 

The next room was the long, empty one Frisk had always hated. Something about it made her feel exposed, as though anyone or anything could be watching her. She was almost glad to run through it, even as her side cramped to the point of agony. At least she was putting more distance between she and Toriel; that was the one thing that mattered. If she could get far enough away from the monster, she could safely cross into Snowdin, then hide until the monsters forgot about her. It wouldn't take long.

It felt like years passed before she was finally out of that room. Her lungs were burning from the effort and her legs felt like jelly, but Toriel's voice was fainter than it had been yet. Frisk just needed to keep going a little longer.

She kept running on and on and on, her determination the only thing keeping her going. She never stopped even when monsters attempted to fight her, continuing doggedly forward. Some of the puzzles had already been solved for her, and those that weren't she completed herself within seconds. 

Finally, she stood in front of Home, panting.

Toriel's Home had always been a strange place for her. Of course she'd had a home back on the surface, even if it had sometimes felt more like a house than a home. But Home...in the few timelines that Toriel had been more normal, Frisk had almost enjoyed her time here. Yes, the pies were often burnt or gritty, and sometimes the flowers adorning the place were wilted or moldy, but she'd felt like she had someone who cared for her. Even if it was just until she tried to leave.

It wasn't like her life on the surface had been bereft of love, but at the very least, it had been bereft of parental love. Her parents had been poor but hard-working, always trying to give their only child a better life. In hindsight Frisk recognized their love for her, but as a child of five, of ten, of fifteen, she hadn't understood that. Which was why it was nice to have had those few fleeting moments when Toriel had almost acted like the mother Frisk had always wanted. 

Sighing deeply, Frisk stepped inside the house. 

There were more changes which confused her. The floors were swept, the carpets clean, and there was hardly a speck of dust to be found. The heavenly smell of freshly-baked pie came to her nose as she started towards the stairwell. 

Maybe,the thought came to her, maybe this time  _is_ different. Maybe...

But she shook the thought off and started down the stairs. 

Without Toriel there to stop her, the journey through the passage was fairly quick. It was only when she stood in front of the doorway leading to Snowdin that she paused.

This was where she usually met Flowey again. In some timelines, she'd managed to get him a pot and carry him around in it; in some he'd followed her on foot into Snowdin; in some he'd promised he was watching over her. What would happen this time? 

Frisk rubbed her arms, shivering, and not just because of the rapidly dropping temperature. Flowey had said he'd spare her 'just this once,' so if he saw her again, what would happen? Would he straight up kill her? Frisk was aware of how powerful he was after having fought by his side in several timelines. She didn't have a good chance of winning, not weaponless like she was. And convincing him? Frisk had tried her hardest to convince almost every monster not to kill her. She'd failed every single time. 

But if she stayed here, Toriel would eventually come looking for her down here. She needed to keep moving. She knew of several good places to hide in Snowdin, so now she just needed to get there. Which meant getting past Flowey first.

Frisk took a deep breath and strode forward. 

"I bet you feel really great. You didn't kill anybody this time. Whoopee. Honestly, it's hard to believe you're still trying to get out of here without killing anybody. You said it yourself, you've been killed how many times? Twenty? Thirty? Fifty?" 

Flowey grinned, showing fanged teeth. "You'll get tired of it eventually, and what then? Will you finally kill them back? Or will you just give up?"

Frisk pursed her lips and turned away, walking past him. 

The last thing she heard as she passed through into Snowdin was Flowey's demonic laughter and, as she shut the door, "Remember: it's kill or be killed!"


	2. Chapter 2

The familiar chill of Snowdin assaulted Frisk as soon as she closed the door to the Ruins behind her. Despite spending the majority of her five months of Underfell in the ice and snow of deep winter, she'd never quite gotten used to it. She had a feeling it might've been because she'd had the same clothes every reset: boots, jeans, and a navy sweater. Every attempt at getting warmer clothing had ended in her death.

Frisk stepped forwards, boots crunching into the snow. A gust of wind blew past her, causing her to shiver violently and wrap her arms around herself in what she already knew was a futile attempt to keep her warm. She spotted a familiar bush and frowned. Bending down, she grabbed the camera hidden in it and smashed it against the ground. She doubted it'd do much good, but at least knowing Alphys wouldn't be watching through that camera made Frisk feel a little safer. Biting her lip, she kept walking.

It didn't take long at all before her progress was arrested by a long branch lying too-casually across the path. Frisk stiffened as soon as she saw it and halted, eyes darting from side to side.

No.

Resets that had this branch also had a fully prepared Sans.

Her heart sank in her chest, a lead weight as cold and dead and hopeless as the surrounding forest. It had stood guard against intruders for time immemorial; now it stood against her. As did the rest of the Underground. As did Sans.

"You can do this, Frisk," she murmured, but the words were as hollow as the tone. She'd been through this same scenario twice now. She'd been forced to reset the second time, and the first...she didn't like to think about the first. 

Grimacing, Frisk stepped over the branch as carefully as she could. She searched the nearby ground for her customary stick- both a weapon and a support, as she liked best. It was ice-cold in her already frozen hands, but its presence was also reassuring. She wasn't entirely defenseless anymore. 

Not that having a stick would make any difference against Sans.

Her pace quickened, faster now as though her speed could garner her an escape, or perhaps just a quick and painless death. It seemed mere seconds before she neared the bridge. Her soul sank lower and lower as she approached, already knowing what was to come. Her heart started a rhythm twice the speed of her footsteps, then thrice. She clenched clammy palms around her frosted stick and walked closer, closer, closer to the bridge.

Frisk froze right on schedule. She didn't need to draw out her soul to know that Sans had turned it blue, anchoring her to one place. It was a monumental effort simply staying upright, let alone breathing. 

"S o  I  g u e s s  w e' r e  n o t  f r i e n d s." 

She could feel his presence behind her, his magic a blazing fire in comparison to the roaring winds gusting by. Familiar panic welled up in her throat, joined with rising nausea. This reset had changed nothing. She was trapped and powerless and  _Sans was here,_ and she could sense his glowing red eye staring into her soul and contemplating exactly how to-

Her body slammed into a tree, hard enough she heard a crack. She let out a groan as she fell to the ground and forced open her eyes, taking in a newly-blurred and darkened world. Her bare hands tingled in the intense cold of the snow. It took everything in her to pick herself up and turn to face Sans. 

Like Toriel, he seemed different. He was wearing a new hoodie, blue instead of black and red, the jagged, furred edges conspicuously gone. His slippers were white instead of black, his socks blue instead of red. His golden tooth was missing from his grin, and his eye flashed yellow-and-cyan. Not red, but she figured it was terrifying either way. 

"I told you not to come back." At least Sans's voice was still that same, drawling bass. It was still cold, even, and deadly. 

Frisk turned and ran, possibly broken rib and all. Her vision was fuzzy and she felt lightheaded, and even as she ran, she felt her determination slipping. She could hear Sans coming after her. She choked back a desperate sob. It was a matter of time before she tired, before Sans caught up and-

A tremendous pressure forced her to a standstill. Frisk choked, gasping for breath as her hands wildly clawed the air for an escape she already knew was lost to her.

"But you did anyway, didn't you? You just don't know how to  _quit."_

She flew upwards. Smashed back into the ground. Felt another crack in her chest. 

"I've had enough of you and your Determination. I'm not letting you past here ever again." A low, angry hiss. "You dirty brother-killer." 

_Slam._

"Please," she murmured. She pushed a trembling hand into the ground and sat up. Her chest and her concentration felt split in two. "Please, have-"

"You want mercy now?" Sans let out a low, mirthless laugh. "Why couldn't you give any to Papyrus when he spared you? Why couldn't you give any to Undyne? To Toriel? To Mettaton? To any of the monsters you  _murdered?"_

Frisk forced her eyes open. She'd made a promise. She was not and would never be a murderer. "I didn't-" 

 _Slam._ "Liar." 

Confusion seeped in along with the pain. Sans's attacking her was expected, as he'd done it nearly every reset. Never, however, had he accused her of being a murderer. Never, indeed, had he seemed like he'd care if she were. But she forced away the bewilderment. Although she'd given a fleeting thought to the strangeness of Sans's apparent moral upgrade, she couldn't find it in herself to truly care. If he didn't kill her soon, she'd later wish he had. There was nothing before her but pain. What was the point of wondering, if she'd suffer no matter what?

Frisk heaved herself up again, but her weak legs shook so much she collapsed to the ground once more. It was with a broken murmur that she said, "Please, Sans...just do it quickly." 

"...What?" 

She was tired and in pain. Her ribs throbbed and a sharp pain fluctuated between every breath. She had a feeling a splintered bone had punctured her lungs. Her whole body was covered in dirt and scratches, some long and deep enough to bleed. Her sweater was smeared with dirt and blood. Her hair and clothing were caked with snow, the cold of which was slowly seeping into her very bones. Her soul flickered weakly in front of her, as hopeless as she; Frisk could see the red slowly leaving it, matching her draining determination. It was a matter of time until there was none left. She was dying already, body and soul. 

Frisk had already given up. Really, she'd given up two resets before, when she'd finally realized that there was no way out of Underfell except death. And if there were no way out...the least she could do with her death was to help someone out.

"I know you want to take me to Asgore as the seventh soul so that you can break the barrier."

The least she could do was to finally be something other than useless. 

"All I ask is that you-"

And the least Sans could do was to...

"-kill me quickly. I'll go willingly, just please...please make it painless." 

When she was met only with silence, she finally dared to look up at Sans. He was gaping at her, eyes white pinpricks of light. She couldn't remember ever seeing his eyes look quite like that before: surprised, confused, and uncertain. 

"Frisk, what are you-"

He stopped mid-sentence. Frisk's eyes narrowed in confusion before she followed his gaze. Sans wasn't looking at her anymore. He was looking past her, looking at...

Papyrus.

_Oh, God. Oh no. Oh no no no nononono-_

She'd scrambled back onto her feet before she'd even thought twice, ignoring the stabbing agony in her ribs. She couldn't- she wouldn't- couldn't- no. No, no, no. She, she, she-

Her soul flipped in midair. The red faded out from it just a little more. 

Papyrus stood there, staring at her. "Human, what is wrong? Are you hurt? Sans, why have you not helped the human?" 

Frisk didn't hear anything past 'human.' She felt all the remaining blood slowly drain out of her face and wondered if it were possible to actually die from fear. Surely it must be; she could feel her heart pounding at a rate that must be faster than humanly possible. Faintly she contemplated running. If she could cause a distraction, perhaps she could take off and be deep into the woods by the time the two skeletons recovered. 

Deep inside her mind, she knew already it was a fool's hope.

"Human?" Papyrus's voice was less loud, more concerned. "You are looking strangely pale. Are you alright?" 

"N-no," she stuttered out. "N-no, this- this can't be-"

Frisk's breaths hissed out faster and faster, her exhalations tiny wisps of steam floating above her head. She slowly began to back away from the two brothers, moving sideways so as to get out of being stuck between them. The pain in her ribs was enough to darken her vision and cause her limbs to feel sluggish. She stumbled, barely catching herself on a nearby tree.

Inwardly, she panicked. There couldn't possibly be a worse time for her to pass out. She needed to move. She needed to get away. She needed to  _run._

Just like before, she turned around and ran into the forest as fast as her heavily injured self could move. Just like before, Sans's magic stopped her in her tracks. Unlike before, she struggled. And kept struggling. 

"Let me go!" 

It was panic, intermingled with the dregs of her determination, that kept her going. She summoned every ounce of her strength and  _pulled,_ flying forwards at least a yard and face-planting into the ground. She let out a cry of pain but heaved herself up and continued to run. This time, Sans didn't stop her. 

"Human, stop!" Papyrus cried. "You are hurting yourself!" 

Two sets of feet sounded behind her, one light and swift, the other heavy and thunderous. She couldn't make up her mind which one terrified her more. Instead, she just kept going, leaping over logs and swinging around bare-limbed trees with an agility that surprised her. If she'd only had this same speed against Undyne... 

Sans flickered to life directly in front of her. His eye-sockets were hollow and empty. His skeletal hands blazed with blue magic. "Stop." 

Frisk took one look at him and barreled onward. He had extremely low HP. At the speed she was going, it shouldn't be hard to simply charge into him and knock him backwards. He might not be able to follow her anymore, if only she hit him hard enough. 

Something like apprehension slid across his face. It was quickly swallowed up by the familiar emotionless mask. The mere sight of it almost stalled her heart, but she kept going. 

"Stop!"  **  
**

Frisk leaped, taking the last few feet in one bound and plowing straight into-

Nothing.

And then nothing became something and Frisk flew through empty air and crashed headfirst into a tree.

She was unconscious even before she hit the ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, happy 2018, everyone! Hope the new year treats everyone better than the last.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a warning, there will be mentions of suicide throughout this chapter and story. I'm sorry! I know I should've tagged it earlier, but I was just now remembering. 
> 
> Additionally, this story's just gonna get darker as it goes. Frisk has some pretty obvious PTSD, and I'm not gonna gloss over that like it's nothing. It's a serious mental condition and it should be dealt with realistically and sympathetically, without undue pity or exaggerations or stereotypes. So buckle in, folks. It's gonna be one hell of a ride.

Distorted flashes of half-forgotten memories played through her head as dreams- more accurately, as nightmares. She saw Judgment Hall through blurred vision fixed on an arm so fractured it was no longer straight. She saw Papyrus shove Sans backwards, throw an insult to him, then turn back around to her with glowing bones in his palms. She saw Flowey's sad eyes as she lay there at Toriel's feet, dying. She saw the flower pot she'd once put him in lying in the sewer of Waterfall, in pieces from Undyne's spears.

As another dream began- a soft, sad dream where she found a nice cave to live in, far away from any intruders- something warm began to lace through her body. It was foreign but not unwelcome, and she instinctively leaned into it. She'd spent months cold. It was nice to feel something different. 

The dream changed into hot chocolate with Flowey, a Flowey who wasn't the one she'd met at the beginning of this reset. A Flowey who'd jumped into a pot of his own accord and fought alongside her. The warmth inside her peaked, then faded with startling abruptness. The hot chocolate she'd almost finished dropped to the ground, the mug shattering. Frisk let out a whimper. 

Then...voices. Another dream started, but this one was confusing, split as she was between consciousness and unconsciousness. Snatches of reality and dream sang through her head, and her senses flooded her mind with input.

"...THEY'LL BE SORRY." 

_Papyrus advanced menacingly, scowl fixed on his skull. "Human. It's kill or be killed here. Prepare to die!"_

"Heh, Pap, don't worry..."

It was strange, really, how her body didn't feel cold anymore. It felt almost as if she weren't outside. But where else would she be?

_Frisk cowered back, but Papyrus's magic hit her square in the chest. Unused as she was to pain, she let out a cry. Papyrus's expression stayed stony, emotionless._

"...BROTHER? AREN'T YOU TOO LAZY FOR..."

"'s alright. I'll..."

Frisk stirred, furrowing her brow. It was becoming harder and harder to ignore reality in lieu of dreams. To be honest, they weren't even  _good_ dreams. Choosing them over waking was just ridiculous. At least she had control of her actions when she was awake.

_The bones came too fast to dodge. Bruises were mounting up everywhere on her body. As Papyrus's patience waned, bruises turned into breaks. Blood slowly oozed down her. And finally..._

_...He snapped._

With a gasp Frisk forced open her eyes. The familiar fear constricted her lungs and she put a hand down on the ground to steady her. Her brow furrowed.

The ground was...oddly soft. And oddly warm.

Alarm bells rang through her mind. Frisk sat up and gazed wildly around. She was on a couch she'd never used before, in a room she'd never seen before, and standing a few feet away with an enthusiastic grin on his face was-

Nope.

Maybe it was the sheer exhaustion, or maybe it was the broken ribs. As it was, Frisk took one look at the skeleton, closed her eyes, and lay back down. Fuck this timeline. Fuck every timeline. She was so far into denial and exhaustion that she couldn't even bring herself to fear for her safety. If Papyrus wanted to kill her, well, at least he'd make a reset easier. At least Sans wasn't there.

"HUMAN! YOU'RE AWAKE! I WAS AFRAID YOU'D NEVER WAKE UP!" 

Frisk flinched from the loud volume but kept her eyes closed. Why in the world would he care about something like that? If he'd really wanted, he could've killed her in her sleep.

"Just kill me already," she got out. The pain she'd expected to flare up after movement was strangely absent. It just served to propel her even further into shell-shocked numbness. She was so far past caring what happened to her she couldn't even muster up the slightest emotion. She just felt...empty. Void. If Papyrus killed her, she'd just reset. It wasn't anything she hadn't done before.

Somewhere deep inside, she wondered what would happen if she didn'treset. If she just allowed Papyrus to take her broken soul to Asgore.

"I WAS NOT EXPECTING YOU TO WAKE UP SO SOON, I'M AFRAID... I WAS GOING TO MAKE YOU MY SPECIAL GET-WELL SPAGHETTI BUT YOU SEEM TO BE AWAKE NOW!" 

Frisk opened her eyes, stared at him, and blinked once. Had he said he was going to make her  _spaghetti?_ Perhaps she'd misheard and he intended to make her  _into_  spaghetti. Human-style meatballs, maybe? That was more in place with the Papyrus she knew. This Papyrus...well, he definitely was putting on an amazing act. Odd, because she'd never pegged Papyrus as an actor, but then again the only bonding times they'd had were accompanied by severe injury and usually death.

"HOW ARE YOU FEELING? SANS THOUGHT YOU WOULD NEED A FEW DAYS TO RECOVER."

She couldn't help it; she flinched at the name. Shame thickened her throat. Even if she'd wanted to answer Papyrus, she wouldn't have been able to get anything out. Although she hated every monster in the Underground with a passion, although she'd gladly watch them wade through any amount of discomfort or injury...she had always hated herself more for her own weakness. And nothing showed weakness like flinching at the very thought of someone.

As though her shame had been the opener to her worm-filled can, her emotions began to tumble back into her with the force of a falling building. They were about as welcome as if they'd been actual worms, but had at least the positive effect of making her worried about her impending death. Or, perhaps more accurately, terrified.

Frisk's heartbeat sped right back up again at an annoyingly quick rate. She had just enough irritation left in her to scowl and think  _not now,_ before the panic fully set in. 

She needed to get out.

_Now._

Frisk shot up off the couch and leaped backwards away from Papyrus. Her hands automatically clutched for her stick but came up empty. Frowning, she realized that when Papyrus had brought her into this place (his home, she was guessing), he would've made sure to take any weapons from her unconscious self. She was defenseless.

God, did that thought burn.

"HUMAN, THERE'S NO NEED TO BE AFRAID! THE GREAT PAPYRUS MEANS NO HARM." Papyrus, true to his words, was unarmed for the moment. He held out his skeletal hands towards her, palms-up in a gesture of trust.

She didn't believe it for a second. Papyrus wanted something from her- what, she didn't know- and was desperate enough to get it that he was trying to trick her. For 'The Great Papyrus' himself to want something this badly was unprecedented. Furthermore, it was terrible for her. There was no telling to what lengths he'd go to retrieve her once she left. At the same time, there was no way she could stay. That would be spelling out sure doom for herself.

Well, if defending herself was out, back to tried-and-true. Plan B, fleeing out of the closest exit, was now underway. 

It took a matter of seconds to scope out the available exits: the door, which Papyrus stood by, a window to the left of the couch, and a window on the adjacent wall. The door would leave her in the best shape- she was sure her ribs would start hurting again as soon as the adrenaline was over- but she had no idea how fast Papyrus could move. If he were anywhere close to Sans' speed, she'd be lucky to escape through the window. 

Heavy footsteps clanked against the floor. Papyrus. 

Frisk backed away, edging towards the window. If she could just hit it hard enough, it would shatter and she could leap through frame. She just needed to be quick. 

"HUMAN? I KNOW IT IS HARD TO BELIEVE THAT SOMEONE AS GREAT AS I SHOULD BE FRIENDS WITH YOU, BUT THEN, THAT IS WHY I AM TRULY GREAT!" Papyrus let out one of his cackling laughs. Frisk thought she noticed a nervous edge to it, which confused her. Why should  _he_ be nervous? It wasn't like she'd gone around killing him!

_Clank._

"Stay away!" 

She made it to the window, pulse pounding in her ears. As fast as she could, she threw her elbow against-

_Pop._

Frisk stiffened. Her head turned back to the window, confused- what kind of window made that noise when it shattered- and then stopped. Her eyes grew wide as she realized her mistake. Slowly, ever so slowly, she turned her head back towards Papyrus.

Except it wasn't just Papyrus anymore.

"Welcome back, kiddo." 

Sans grinned.

 

* * *

 

Transfixed in horror, Frisk only stood there and gaped. She honestly hadn't thought her situation could get any worse- honestly hadn't even wondered where Sans was- but miraculously, it had. Perhaps because karma still hadn't gotten enough of her, her situation had dunked her headfirst down the drain and thrown her straight into the sewer. 

"BROTHER," Papyrus said, "YOU'RE BACK! THAT WAS VERY QUICK." 

Sans shrugged, not taking his glowing eye-lights off of Frisk. "I guess I'm just sans-sational. Bro," he continued after an appropriately long pause, and over the sound of Papyrus's howls, "how 'bout you go visit Undyne. Last I saw, her house burned down again. Good friends are supposed to help their friends rebuild their houses, aren't they?" 

"OF COURSE! THAT IS WHY YOU HAVE NOT ALREADY HELPED HER, I TAKE IT? YOU ARE A VERY BAD FRIEND, SANS. NEXT TIME THIS HAPPENS, I WILL TAKE YOU WITH ME TO FIX HER HOUSE MYSELF!" With a reproving look towards his brother, Papyrus turned to leave. He stopped at the door and turned back. "SANS, BEHAVE NICELY TOWARDS THE HUMAN! DON'T TORTURE THEM WITH YOUR PUNS!"

Sans flicked his eyes away from Frisk to give Papyrus a smirk. "I'd be fine telling chemistry jokes instead...I just don't think I'd get a-"

"STOP!"

"-reaction." 

Papyrus gave another screech and slammed the door shut behind him.

Sans waited for a few seconds before turning back to Frisk. His eyes turned void. "Rule 1: hurt Papyrus, and you'll have more than just a bad time." 

Such was Frisk's overwhelming bravery and courage that she let out a tiny whimper. "I-I don't- don't wanna hurt a-anybody." 

That much was true, at least. Although she hated and feared the monsters to an extent she once hadn't thought humanly possible, she would not hurt them unless in self-defense, and she  _would not_ kill them. Perhaps to some that was a weakness, but to her Gran it had been only a strength. Even though she hadn't seen Gran in months, she still carried that one promise in her. And she would die before she broke it. Had already died, and still not broken it. 

Sans just scoffed. "Rule 2: knowing Papyrus, he'll tell Undyne he caught a human when he's over there. She'll be around to collect your soul shortly. If you attempt to escape, if you attempt to hurt  _anybody_ at all, your death will become ten thousand times more painful."

Belatedly, Frisk remembered the deal she'd attempted to enact with him.  _I'll go willingly. Just please...please make it painless._ With her survival instinct newly awakened, she suddenly regretted ever saying anything. But, knowing Sans as she did, it was worse than useless to even attempt to renege. She just had to hope she'd be able to reset before Undyne was finished with her soul.  

Frisk sighed and bowed her head in submission. Already she knew there would be no escape. Her death had already been marked out this time. She'd have to do a full reset now, all the way back to the Ruins.

Strangely, the thought gave her enough courage to mutter out, "Why not take me to Asgore yourself?"

"A few reasons. One is that Pap wouldn't expect me to do it. Wouldn't want to worry him into thinkin' you'd gotten yourself killed by that same monster who'd broken your ribs, would I?" 

Frisk tilted her head. Something about his words didn't make sense. She stilled her trembling voice and asked, "You...didn't tell him you were the one who hurt me?" 

Unasked went her next question. Why would Papyrus worry about her? 

Sans's expression went cold. "You really are a freak, aren'tcha? Thinkin' I'd do that to my bro. Listen up, pal. Pap is a better person than you'll ever be."

Jerking back reflexively at his soulless eyes, Frisk wrapped her arms around her middle protectively. Surprisingly, the jolt of pain she'd expected didn't come.

She bit her lip and furrowed her brow. Actually, when she thought about it, it hadn't hurt since she'd woken up. Had one of the brothers...?

Sans let out a humorless chuckle. "Jus' now figuring it out? Paps healed you up while you were out. Tried to discourage him, but...you know how he is." He sounded both fond and exasperated.

Frisk stared at his slippered feet. Actually, she didn't. The Papyrus she was used to would not have healed a monster, let alone a human. Every minute she spent in this reset made her question not just her sanity but the motives of everyone in the Underground. What reason did Papyrus have to pretend to be that happy-go-lucky skeleton who healed humans? What reason did Sans have to keep up the lie? 

At least Sans wasn't lying about wanting to kill her, though. Frisk figured she should count her blessings. If Papyrus's intentions were knives in the dark, Sans's might as well have been broadswords at noon: he obviously hated her and wanted her dead. She found the honesty if not nice, at least familiar. Ironically, it felt safer than Papyrus's trickery. She could understand it better.

Sans shifted his weight, drawing Frisk's attention back to the present. He was still standing by the couch and he didn't look like he was going to budge anytime soon.

Frisk took an infinitesimal step to the left, glanced at Sans. He was watching her but seemed entirely apathetic to her. Gathering her courage, she took another step, paused.

No reaction.

The third one got her to the bottom of the stairwell. It was there that Sans's eyes narrowed and he tilted his head, most likely wondering what she was intending to do next. Honestly, she had no idea. She had a bad habit of making things up as she went, and it seemed like she wasn't about to break the habit now. 

Sans's baritone rumbled through the air. "If you're tryna escape from upstairs, you can give up. 'M not letting you out of my sight."

"C-Could-" Frisk shoved a hand over her mouth and retreated back into the wall a little more. Then she steeled herself. If she were going to die, at least her last hours could be slightly less terror-filled. "Could yo- you at least step aw- away a bit?" 

"Scared of me or somethin'? Heh. As it should be." 

"I-If I'm g-g-gonna die," she tried again, then stopped. This guy would just as soon kill her himself. It wasn't like he'd take her comfort into consideration. 

But Sans shoved his hands into his pockets and took a step back. Took two steps. Took three. When her eyes widened at the boon, he gave a one-shouldered shrug. "I'm no innocent baby-bones, but at least I have mercy left."

His eyes bored into hers. Frisk heard the unspoken.

_Unlike you._

Frisk crept over to the couch and sat. Then she awaited her death.


	4. Chapter 4

"HUMAN, SANS, I'M BACK!"

Frisk jerked from her spot on the couch. She peeked over at Sans before turning her gaze to the front door. Her heart began to pound as adrenaline flooded her senses. 

Papyrus stomped in and shut the door behind him. "SANS, HOW IS THE HUMAN DOING? I HOPE YOU WERE TAKING PROPER CARE OF THEM!"

"Of course," Sans said smoothly. His eyes narrowed at the door. "They've been very  _Frisky_ this whole time."

Papyrus groaned. "THE HUMAN DOES NOT DESERVE YOU MAKING PUNS OUT OF THEIR NAME, SANS! THEY-" he paused. Sans's eyes shot over to Papyrus. 

"Human," Papyrus said, suddenly quiet. "Your name...it is Frisk, is it not?"

Frisk gave a short nod through the tightness in her chest. The adrenaline wasn't quieting down. She supposed it was because she was accustomed to these kind of tricks. Undyne was probably outside the house waiting for the right moment to strike. Frisk wondered every moment when that familiar hell-fire spear would cut her in two. The Undying Demon was not known for her mercy.

"...How did I know that?" 

The question was asked as if to himself, but Frisk couldn't help responding. "I don't know." 

Because she didn't. He shouldn't have known it even from previous resets. Flowey, Toriel, and Mettaton had asked her name on occasion. Sans had asked a few times; Asgore once or twice. But Alphys, Undyne, and Papyrus had no need for a name from the human destined for slaughter. She couldn't remember any of them asking.

Maybe Sans had shared her name with Papyrus? But Sans himself wouldn't have known until the last ten or so resets, and that was assuming that he could remember resets more than as deja vu. Any time he'd gotten her name, he'd killed her shortly after. Because of that, she couldn't imagine that he'd told Papyrus. 

"Do you not know...who you know?" Sans asked after a moment's silence.

"OF COURSE I KNOW WHO I KNOW!" Papyrus sounded affronted. "I WAS JUST...TESTING YOU! YES! I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, WANTED TO SEE IF YOU ARE AS GREAT AS I AM!"

"Oh. Am I?" 

"NO! OF COURSE NOT! HOW COULD ANYONE BE AS GREAT AS ME?" Papyrus let out a cackling laugh that practically scared Frisk out of her wits. She remembered that laugh right before he'd driven a sharpened bone through her heart.

"Oh. Yes, of course, bro." Sans, contrary to what she was used to seeing, did not seem the least bit cowed by his brother's screaming. "Anyway, how was Undyne? Did she get a nice _housewarming?"_

Papyrus scowled. "HER HOUSE IS REPAIRED, NO THANKS TO YOU!"

"And you didn't tell her about our guest?"

"NO. WHY SHOULD I HAVE INFORMED HER OF THAT?"

Sans's eyes went cold. The casual, drawling tone he'd had turned monotone. "They're a human, Paps. You know what we're supposed to do to humans." 

Frisk shrank back into the couch cushions. She still couldn't believe Papyrus hadn't told Undyne about her. Surely this was one big trick, just as the last five months had been one big nightmare. Then again even if Papyrus hadn't told, she knew well that Sans had no qualms about taking her to Asgore himself. Briefly, her thoughts flicked once more to escape, but she'd tried that already. No, the best thing she could do was die quickly and reset.

For what? For more pain? For more killing?

She didn't know.

When she finally pulled herself out of her head once more, it was to hear Papyrus talking, once more uncharacteristically quiet. "Sans, look at her! She looks like she needs a friend! What better friend than the Great Papyrus himself?"

"Paps..." Sans sighed, clearly unhappy with the argument. He cast a resentful glance at Frisk. "You want to be part of the Royal Guard, right? Well, how is Undyne ever going to trust you enough to do that if she finds out we were hiding a human?" 

Papyrus's eye-sockets widened. He clearly hadn't thought about it that way. He gaped for a solid three seconds. "WE WILL JUST KEEP THEM UNTIL THEY FEEL BETTER! THEN I WILL TELL UNDYNE!"

"She could still find out before Frisk is 'feeling better.' Sans said the last words with such disdain Frisk knew exactly what he implying. He thought her fear was faked. 

Papyrus puffed out his chest. Bravely, he said, "I DON'T CARE, SANS! ROYAL GUARDS HELP THOSE WHO ARE IN NEED! I AM PREPARING FOR THE FUTURE!"

Sans grunted. "Paps, c'mon and think about-"

"NO! I AM PUTTING MY FOOT DOWN!" Papyrus let out a stomp so large the house shook. "THE HUMAN WILL STAY UNTIL THEY GET BETTER! CAPTURING HUMANS IS NOT GOOD FOR THEIR STRESS LEVELS!"

Well, he had that right. She couldn't help but wonder what his motives really were for this, though. Maybe he was afraid Sans or Undyne would steal his glory if they brought her in themselves? Was he planning on taking her to Asgore anyway behind their backs? Or maybe he had...different interests.

Frisk barely suppressed a shudder.

Sans let out a resigned huff. "Three days. Then you are going to tell Undyne."

"YOU ARE NOT THE BOSS OF ME! BUT, BECAUSE I AM HONEST AS WELL AS GREAT, I WILL TELL UNDYNE IN THREE DAYS." With a final nod, Papyrus marched up the stairs and into his room, shutting the door with a loud  _nyeh!_

There was a long silence. Frisk stared at the carpet for an indeterminate amount of time. 

"Don't think you can escape," Sans said finally. Frisk dared to look up and immediately wished she hadn't; his eye-lights were once more gone. She shivered, barely even hearing what he said next.

"I'm gonna be keeping an eye-socket on you 24/7. If you so much as think about breaking either one of the rules..." he trailed off.

Frisk looked at the ground, clenching her fists so tightly the knuckles whitened. She didn't need him to finish that sentence, and she sensed he knew that. She was terrified enough just being around him. He didn't need to actively threaten her in order to scare her. Even though he thought she was faking it, some small part of him must have seen the fear in her eyes and known it wasn't, couldn't, be false.

"Get up," he said harshly. When she hesitated, he repeated the command, eyes flashing black.

It was the eyes that did it. She obediently stood up. Dazedly she realized she was actually a few inches taller than he; she could easily see the top of his skull without having to move her head in the slightest. The idea was so strange she didn't know what to do with it.

"You'll be sleeping in my room." Sans started up the stairs; Frisk followed. Dread pooled in her stomach. What exactly did he mean by that?

They entered the room in silence. The door clicked shut. 

Frisk only stared at the floor, nails cutting into her palms hard enough to bleed. What was he going to do to her? Surely it was something horrible if he didn't want to have even the potential witness of Papyrus. Her mind flashed back to three resets before, when Papyrus had captured her and...

"I'll get you a mattress in a bit. You'll be on the floor, obviously."

Frisk's eyes shot up. "And y-you'll be...?"

"In my bed." Sans looked confused for a second, before his expression darkened in disgust. "I wouldn't touch any human, let alone a filthy brother-killer like you."

"O-Oh. Okay." She couldn't help the relief that flooded through her in waves. At least she didn't need to worry about that from Sans. Everything else was still a possibility- probability- but at least she had this. The fact that he'd called her a brother-killer twice now was...strange, seeing as she'd never managed to even hurt Papyrus, but she let it slide.

Sans slunk over to his bed and threw himself onto it. A crook of a finger and a wisp of blue magic had several books flying towards him; one hit Frisk solidly in the head on its way over. She frowned in annoyance, holding a hand to where she was sure a large bump was already starting to form. 

"My bad," Sans said, sounding completely unrepentant. "Guess you should've  _booked_ your stay here in advance."

Frisk blinked.

Suddenly, there were tears in her eyes. 

Frisk turned her back on Sans and plopped down onto the floor hastily. Why in the world was she crying? She'd had far worse injuries than a book to the head. She'd had far worse living situations than her current one, even if the suspense was slowly driving her insane. She'd even been subjected to far worse puns than the one Sans had just told her. For all intents and purposes, Frisk should've been fine. 

So why was she crying?

The tears trickled down her cheeks faster and faster, and before she knew it she was suppressing sobs, her frame shaking with the effort of holding them back. Something pressed into her chest, weighing her down. It took her several long minutes before she finally realized what it was.

Loneliness.

Because Sans's words had reminded her of the dream she'd once held at her first reset. That dream of one day convincing all those monsters who wanted her dead to be her family. She'd mapped it all out in her head: Sans would be the big brother, the comedian, the prankster. Papyrus would be another brother. Undyne would be the hardcore sister who'd beat up anyone who hurt her. Alphys would be another sister, Flowey another brother, Toriel the mom...

Barring Flowey, they'd all killed her now. It was impossible to look at, to think of, any of them without remembering that. Without being reminded of orange bullets or red spears or fire or bones. She had to face it: she was alone and wanted only for her soul. They only wanted her dead. She would never have a family, never know physical contact without pain, never know companionship without fear. Ever. 

And forever was a very long time.

 

* * *

 

"Frisk."

It was several hours later. The room had been utterly silent except Sans's occasional page-turns and Frisk's muffled sobs. She was fairly certain he knew exactly what she'd been doing but simply hadn't cared. Either way, it had been a boring few hours. After the first hour or so, she'd gotten tired of looking at his trash tornado, fascinating as it was. Eventually, the smell of his dirty socks had started to get to her and she'd considered asking him to open his window, before nixing the idea as something he'd never agree to. She had just been considering asking him for one of his books when he'd spoken up.

"Yes?" 

"Where'd you get that sweater? Isn't- isn't your usual one, uh, striped or somethin'?" 

That familiar confusion swarmed in once more. "Uh, no? As far as I remember, it's always been like this." She motioned to her solid navy sweater, despite the fact that her back still faced him.

Sans was quiet for a few minutes. Frisk had just about worked up the courage to break the silence herself when he asked, "And how, uh, how old are you again?"

Again? As though he'd asked her age before? "Eighteen. Maybe nineteen by now. Not sure."

More silence.

"You're lying."

Frisk wavered between fear and annoyance. Annoyance won. "Why the hell would I lie about that?"

"Because you're...you're just a..." Sans trailed off. She wondered what he'd been about to say. "How much do you remember from past resets?"

"Wait...you know about the resets?" She spun around on the floor to face him. She'd thought he just remembered better than most, but he seemed to have actual knowledge about them she'd never heard of before, outside of her and Flowey. How much did  _he_ remember? How much knowledge did he truly have?

Sans gave her a look just as confused as she felt. "We've talked about them. Remember?"

"I never talked to you about anything," Frisk said. It came out more harshly than she intended. "You were usually too busy killing me." 

Just like that, all emotion vanished from Sans. He turned away and picked up his book once more. When he spoke, his voice was that familiar monotone. "You deserved it." 

Frisk turned around once more and pulled her knees up to her chest, blinking back new tears.

It was going to be a long night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, the weirdest thing about this story is the chapter lengths. Pretty much all my previous stories have 3-4k chapter lengths, and then this one's just like...2k. Like what even @ my brain.
> 
> For those who are anxious about getting to the plot already, that's happening soon. Now that I've set up things and moved them along a bit, I can start adding in the conflict. I'm sure Frisk doesn't already have enough to deal with after all lol.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just as a warning, this chapter is very heavy and also very dark. Most chapters won't be this way, so if you'd like you can skip down to the notes and read the summary without having to potentially trigger yourself. 
> 
> For anyone who wants to know the triggers, here they are: 
> 
> (if you don't need them, DO NOT look past this point. It might spoil something for you)
> 
> TW: mentions of panic attacks, mentions of suicide, and nightmares, although that's already normal for this fic (oops?). Emotional manipulation and a dissociative episode.

The next two days were terrible.

Sleeping on a paper-thin, rock-hard mattress was irritating. But, because that wasn't bad enough, Papyrus also decided to force-feed her barely edible spaghetti three times a day, every day, as well as subject her to the Underfell's horrible version of TV with an equally horrible star. Although Mettaton had a soft spot in her heart, since he'd attempted to rebel against Alphys' Kill All Humans programming, he was a truly terrible actor. Two episodes of one of his reality shows, and her brain was turning into a puddle of mush.

That wasn't even the worst part, however.

Even though Frisk had already decided that she'd reset as soon as Undyne killed her, her brain still had panic mode turned on for the majority of the day. Anytime Sans or Papyrus got too close, spoke too loud, or, heaven forbid, attempted to touch her (Papyrus had tried that once; she was still waiting for Sans to kill her for her reaction), her anxiety would kick in. Two days of muscles as tense as her nerves had been exhausting. But still her brain feared. 

Frisk woke up four times on the second night from nightmares, a new record for her. She gazed up at the ceiling for a few long moments, then sat up. She'd trained herself to be silent in her sleep, so she knew that Sans wasn't awake to witness her wide-eyes, her clammy palms, or her heavy breathing. At least, she thought, she could be alone for these few minutes. Trauma and terror might cloud her mind, but at least for these minutes she didn't have to mask it. 

It really said something about her life that waking up at four a.m. from a nightmare was when she felt safest. 

The next morning, Sans woke her up at eight. Freaking  _eight._ Sans himself didn't usually wake up until noon, if he could help it! As she turned to glare up at him from her position on the mattress, he smirked down at her. 

She couldn't help the automatic fear that swept through her, but she managed to stop herself from shuddering away. "Is this some new way to torture me? Sleep deprivation or something?" 

"You can call this sleep deprivation, but keeping you asleep would've been..." Sans smirked. "... _sans_ deprivation. Can't keep myself from the person of the century now can I?" 

"Seriously, why am I awake so early? Why are  _you_ awake so early? You never get up before noon."

"Today's the big day. I figured you'd want to live life to the fullest on your last day of life." He grinned at Frisk maliciously. 

Frisk had tried many times over the past days to tell Sans she hadn't killed Papyrus. She'd tried to explain that the Papyrus she was accustomed to was dressed in red and gold and black, that he was merciless and the furthest thing from being a creature she could kill. Once or twice she thought she might've gotten through to him, if the way Sans's eye-lights dimmed contemplatively were anything to go by. But each time, something strange had flashed through them and his expression had instantly darkened. Looking at him now, she knew Sans wanted her dead.

She'd just have to reset and try again.

As though he'd sensed her thoughts, Sans leaned over and murmured, "And don't you even  _think_ about resetting. Because the next time I see you, I won't let Paps convince me to stop. I  w i l l  k i l l  y o u  s l o w l y."

It took everything in her to remain calm. To nod. To not let the rising despair show on her face, in her eyes, in her body language. She'd been afraid he would say something like that. She cried out to a God who'd forsaken her long ago, asking for even the smallest bit of mercy. But she knew it wouldn't come. She knew she didn't have a choice. It was reset or die, and without a soul she had no idea where'd she go. Probably to some vacuum of a void where existence was meaningless.

A small voice whispered in the back of her head,  _you could always let yourself die._

Then another one hissed,  _you could kill them, you know._

But she shook her head to both, stood up, and moved away from Sans. She would not give up, even if her soul screamed for her to do just that. And she  _would not_ kill, even though she knew one blow to any monster would kill them instantly. She'd read the books, after all. A human with hatred in their heart could kill a monster easily. If her Gran had taught her a little less well...if, perhaps, Gran hadn't told her that story...

Well. Underfell's Underground might have become a very empty place.

"C'mon." Sans's smile was a grimace and a smirk all at once. "Let's go sight-seeing."

Before she could react, before she could think to move out of the way, Sans grabbed her shoulder. The next thing she knew was darkness.

 

* * *

 

A piercing scream left her lips as the darkness enveloped her, but the sound was swallowed up by the void. Frisk shoved desperately at Sans, trying to make him move away, to get him to stop touching her. He didn't budge but she felt his grip soften slightly, just enough that it no longer hurt.

Flashes of light and darkness flew indeterminately by, so fast she could barely understand them. Then light flooded the darkness and the pair emerged from the void and stepped into...

Frisk blanched, fighting down another scream.

They were in Judgment Hall.

"I figured this'd be a great way to end your days," Sans said, looking a little winded but still very satisfied. "Yanno, take a  _hall_ _istic_ approach to this. Gotta make sure you're holding up well." 

It took ages to even realize he'd made a pun, ages more to understand he'd made it off the word holistic. If she hadn't spent so long cramming for the SAT she wouldn't even have  _heard_ of that word, much less known its meaning. Damn her overachiever tendencies at the moment, though. Her understanding of the word only made this whole scenario worse. This was a prank the level she'd thought even Sans wouldn't go near. Surely even he wouldn't be  _this_ cruel.

Except, as Frisk looked around at the golden light and saw red, red, red, she knew that was exactly what he was. 

"You're looking a little sick there," Sans observed casually. It was with great effort that she remained silent, unmoving. "Like you're having a bone-afide...bad time."

"Stop this," she said, too quietly. 

"Oh is something wrong? It must be this  _bloody_ sunlight, right? You're probably not used to it after being in Snowdin for so long." 

The words he said...the images they conjured...

"S-Sans. I'm gonna die today anyway, r-right? What's- what's the point of doing this?" 

"I'm sure Papyrus wouldn't think it was very  _knife_ to see you like this," Sans continued. His left eye flickered dangerously. "But there's only one  _soul_ reason you're still around. You will give us what we want. You will free monster kind by giving your soul to break the barrier. And you  _will not come back."_

Her eyes flickered to a spot of the ceiling where she swore she saw a hint of dripping red. Her stomach turned. "Or what?" 

"Or I will rip you limb from limb. S l o w l y. Any death you've experienced at my hands will be  _nothing_ compared to what's coming for you if you reset." 

Something deep inside her shuddered. And then it snapped.

For a moment she only stared at Sans's hollowed gaze as she felt herself begin to shake. Then...then she just stopped. Everything around her went cold, like an antiseptic swab applied to bare skin. She tried to move her hands, her head, and couldn't. When she looked down it didn't feel like those were her eyes anymore. When she looked at Sans she felt nothing. 

"You've spent two days lying to me," Sans said. "And, I'll admit, there were a few times I almost believed you. But I know you. You're a soulless beast.You humans call us monsters, but you fit the word better than we ever could. I thought taking you here might help stir up some old memories. And I was right." 

She vaguely wondered if this were merely a nightmare. Merely a horrible, endless nightmare that she'd wake up from at two in the morning and get Gran up for. They would make hot cocoa with marshmallows and sit on the sofa together and watch some boring sitcom until she finally fell back asleep. She'd have a family, small as it was. She'd be loved and wanted, not...not whatever  _this_ was.

"So, now that there's no more hiding..."

Sans paused. His eye-sockets met with hers - no, with not-hers. Frisk wasn't there. No, she was back on the sofa with Gran, talking about that stupid college essay her English professor was making her write. She was groaning about the overload of work she'd been given over Christmas break, complaining about choosing to double major in psychology and political science. She was not,  _could_ not, be in this world. 

"Frisk?" Sans asked roughly. His eyes bored into not-Frisk's eyes, scanning her body for what Frisk assumed were injuries. Not-Frisk didn't budge. 

Sans heaved an exasperated sigh but Frisk couldn't bring herself to care. None of this was affecting her directly. Not-Frisk was unfortunate, but it was just a dream. Frisk would wake up shortly and Not-Frisk wouldn't be there anymore. Everything would be okay. It was just a dream. Just a dream. 

"What kinda injury you faking  _now?_ As if the panic attacks aren't enough?"

Her conscious faded out from that reality and darted into a different one. She closed her eyes and hummed a tune under her breath, not caring that nothing came out of her throat. If she waited long enough, she could sit out this living nightmare. It wasn't real. It  _wasn't._

_Slap._

Not-Frisk's face jerked left, but the pain of the impact was lost to Frisk. She forced her eyes open to see Sans there, eyes void, speaking in that low, threatening voice that still gave her nightmares.

Nightmares? She shook her head. This wasn't real. It wasn't. It couldn't be.

Right?

Not-Frisk's head tilted back and let out a piercing scream.

 

* * *

 

Eyes weakly flickered open to see light, disorienting and bright like sunlight on snow. There was a groan, a few muffled sounds, and the feeling of something sharp poking. There was a low, faint voice muttering something-

And then darkness.

Light flooded in once more some time later. The snow still glittered brightly, but now there were shapes. Long, thin shapes, and then shorter, square ones. The sharp thing - bone - poked in harder. There were footsteps crunching on snow and more voices and a low chuckle.

Darkness again.

This time the world flipped when light poured in again. Bone shifted hard, then cold bit. A voice hissed in pain.

"Damn kid."

And just like that, she was Frisk again. She was face-down in the snow, every bone in her body aching, one cheek stinging like hell.

She let out a tiny whimper, then a small sob.

It  _was_ real. This was real and not just a nightmare. She was in Underfell and everyone wanted her dead and she'd never see Gran again. Never feel real sunlight or see stars again. Emptiness filled her chest, but for the first time she could remember, she didn't cry. She only sat up and brushed snow out of her hair and slowly turned to Sans. 

"Welcome back to the land of the living, ki-" he cut himself off abruptly with a wheeze. 

He was on the ground just like she, his skeletal arms trembling noticeably even through his baggy sweatshirt. Shivering, maybe? She had no idea how skeletons dealt with extreme temperatures. He looked exhausted, dark sweat-stains showing on his hoodie and beads of sweat on his skull. Large, heaving gasps tore themselves from his throat and his eye-lights were the dimmest she'd ever seen them without going out entirely. 

It hit her suddenly that this would be the perfect time to kill him.

An unfamiliar voice whispered,  _do it. It'll be so easy. It's not like you'll ever see your Gran again, right?_

She hesitated. If she didn't kill him, he'd either take her to Undyne or kill her outright. And if she came back again, he'd kill her again. And again. And again. 

Frisk glanced around. She had no idea where they were currently. A few buildings stood in the distance - Snowdin Town, perhaps? She and Sans were surrounded by sparse looking pines and a few deciduous trees she didn't know the name of.

Something silvery glinted in the light, blinding Frisk momentarily. She blinked and held a hand over her eyes. The silver flickered brightly, different than the purity of the snow surrounding her and Sans. Interesting. Frisk glanced at Sans once to ensure that he wasn't looking at her, then turned her gaze to the glint. She squinted, trying to make out what it was (her vision had never been the best; she wouldn't be surprised if she were technically nearsighted). 

Her breath caught as recognition surged through her. It was a knife. How the hell had a knife gotten out here?

After again checking on Sans briefly, she crawled towards it, cursing the weakness of her arms as they almost gave out. Once she was there, she slowly picked it up with chilled hands, inspecting it with the eye of a harrowed survivor.

Although simple, it felt light as a feather in her hands and perfectly balanced; clearly an expensive blade. Strangely, it was spotless without even a hint of rust. Very odd for a knife that had been supposedly dropped in the wilderness. Who in Snowdin would have such a well-kept, clearly expensive knife? She could think of no one.

_You won't get an opportunity like this every day, Frisk._

She turned once more to Sans. He'd lowered himself into the snow and was still panting, eyes now closed. Hm.

In a flash her mind recalled the events of the day: Sans's taunts, the malicious glint in his eye, the scorn in his tone when she'd begun to tear herself away from reality. Her lips thinned and virulent anger swirled in her chest. She'd been tormented night and day for months by he and his kin. She'd been tortured, killed, and mocked. Sans's threats that day were the last straw. She would not put up with this anymore.

Sans's breaths were slowing and his body began to relax into the snow. He was falling asleep.

_Now! Do it quickly!_

Frisk heaved herself to her feet and started towards Sans, footsteps light and soundless. She would not do this on her knees like a beggar. She would do this on her feet, proud and defiant. She would no longer be lesser; she would no longer be the weak human sacrifice of the monsters. 

They were right all along, she supposed. In this world, it was kill or be killed.

Frisk stepped over Sans. She raised the knife over her head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Summary: 
> 
> (SPOILERS! If you're going to read the chapter, do NOT read past here)
> 
> After two days filled with nightmares and panic, Frisk wakes up early in the morning of the third day to Sans' grin. He takes her to Judgment Hall in an attempt to make her confess to him that she's really Geno!Frisk and not the pacifist Frisk she's been attempting to convince him she is. His reasoning behind this is that a pacifist Frisk wouldn't have any bad memories associated with Judgment Hall. Frisk has a dissociative episode. Seeing this, Sans grabs her and begins to teleport them out of Judgment Hall and back to Snowdin, but as he'd already been fairly tired, the trip taxes him so much he has to stop partway there.
> 
> He collapses from exhaustion once they're almost there. Frisk recovers from her episode and realizes the opportunity that's fallen into her hands. Then she spies a knife hidden in the snow, grabs it, and walks over to Sans. Chapter ends with her debating whether to kill him or not.


	6. Chapter 6

_Do it!_

She raised the knife over her head.

_Do it!_

Blood pounded through her chest, roared in her ears. Sans had beaten her, killed her, tortured her, mocked her, threatened her, and given her over to despair. By all rights, she should hate him for what he had done. By all rights, she did hate him. He and the rest of Underfell were the reason she had nightmares every night. They were the reason her soul was worn and on the verge of breaking. 

They deserved to suffer for what they'd done.

They were the reason touch terrified her; the reason everything terrified her. They were the reason she would never be able to function normally. Sans and the others had systematically destroyed every part of her. For all the pain they'd put her through, they deserved to suffer. Repeatedly. Painfully. They deserved to repay her every broken bone, every drop of blood, every glistening tear, every night-stifled sob. 

They deserved to die for what they'd done.

Frisk gripped the knife tighter, the steel icy in her hands. She imagined the blow. She'd drive it straight through his rib-cage, straight through his soul. She'd cup his shattered soul in her hands and watch it fall to pieces and scatter in the wind. She'd sprinkle his dust, bury it under the snow, thus taking one final right from him - the monsters's tradition of scattering the dust over the monster's favored object. Even that would be a mercy compared to how he'd killed her.

Sans deserved Hell for what he'd done. 

_Do it!_

She exhaled in a rush. The knife flashed downwards.

It stopped an inch away from his soul. 

The knife clattered into the snow next to Sans; Frisk sank down beside it, shaking hand covering her face. Inside her mind were voices screaming at her for her foolishness and a voice murmuring praise. She shut them out as best she could, fighting back tears.

What had she done?

"I'm so sorry, Gran," she murmured, voice not even a breath. "I'm so sorry."

She'd gone five months without breaking, five months without even thinking about it. Why was it only now that she'd weakened? 

"Why didn'tcha do it, kiddo?" 

Sans.

Frisk threw herself backwards in shock. With wide eyes, she watched as Sans sat up and picked up the knife. He ran one long finger along its length and examined it for a moment. When he was done, he turned a cold, calculating gaze to her.

"Well?"

"I..." Frisk crawled backwards a little farther. Had he been awake this entire time? If he had, then why...why hadn't he stopped her before she'd nearly killed him? "I made a promise."

Sans tilted his head. Some of the ice melted from his stare. "You've never mentioned a promise before." 

Frisk sighed heavily, her breath a puff of frost in the air. "I never had the chance to hurt anybody before, let alone kill them. This was the first time I..."

"But you didn't." Sans hefted the knife; for a petrifying moment she thought he was going to throw it at her. "It's a good blade. Where'd you get it?" 

"Just...found it. In the snow." Frisk gestured vaguely. She could feel nervous perspiration sliding down her face despite the freezing temperature. She rubbed her bare hands together in a futile attempt to warm them. 

Sans hummed as he examined it once more. Then he looked back up at Frisk. "To be honest, kid, I think I might've-"

_CRASH!_

Frisk stiffened, scrambling to her feet. Later, she'd wonder what Sans had been about to say. Now she only felt dread pool into her stomach. There was only one monster who could walk thatloudly.

"SANS! WHERE'S THE HUMAN?"

Sans scowled, pushing himself to his feet as well. "Wasn't expectin' Undyne to show up so soon," he commented with sarcastic glance at the ceiling.

Obviously monsters had no sun or moon to tell time with, but the glowing lights attached to the ceiling had been tuned by magic to act like the surface's lights. As Frisk looked up as well, she realized it was past noon. Exactly how long had she been out for?

"SANS! I KNOW YOU'RE OUT THERE, PUNK!" 

The skeleton turned to Frisk. For a moment, his gaze softened into something she'd never seen from him before: regret. Before she could comment on it, it was gone, leaving Sans's eyes cold once more. 

"You know our deal." 

Frisk nodded. Despair welled up deep inside her, mixed with anger and hatred that had never gone away and fresh guilt from nearly breaking her promise. For the briefest of moments she'd let herself imagine what her life could be like without monsters. She'd stolen that hope away herself, but it didn't hurt any less because of that. If anything, the self-denial only hurt worse. 

"Don't worry, kiddo," Sans said quietly. "I'll tell her to make it painless. Promise."

While she was still wondering over his use of the unfamiliar nickname, Sans took a deep breath. Then he bellowed, "OVER HERE, UNDYNE. I'VE GOT THE HUMAN."

The response and the successive sprint in their direction were something Frisk vaguely registered but didn't pay much attention to. In her mind, she was calling up her SAVE files, searching for the one she was about to use. No matter what Sans said about killing her, no matter what happened to her after this reset, it couldn't be worse than eternity without a soul. 

"HUMAN!" Undyne thundered, so unexpectedly that Frisk jumped and turned around to see the monster a foot away. "YOU HAVE- Sans, why aren't they bound? Didn't you capture them?" 

Sans glanced at Frisk, whose eyes were glued to Undyne. "Nah, they gave up of their own free will. Told me they were willin' to die 's long we made it painless."

Undyne, like Toriel, Sans, and Papyrus, looked different. Her armor was less spiky, gray instead of black; her hair was cut shorter; and instead of her customary two spears, she was completely unarmed. Even her armor was different without the usual broken soul imprint. Except for her razor-sharp teeth and the scowl affixed to her face, she couldn't have looked less like the Undying Demon Frisk knew her as.

Confusion flashed across Undyne's expression. "Uh, okay then. Human. You know what comes next, don't you?"

Frisk nodded stiffly. In her mind, she grabbed onto the SAVE file she needed. 

A glowing spear appeared in Undyne's hands, blue instead of red. She pointed it towards Frisk's chest. "Let's get this over with."

As a tugging sensation in her chest told her that her soul was coming out, Frisk closed her eyes. She selected the SAVE file and summoned every ounce of determination she had. She braced herself for the agonizing pain resetting gave her. Then, as she heard Undyne's spear fly towards her, she RESET. 

Nothing happened.

Frisk hesitated. Had she not tried to RESET hard enough? Or had her soul drained of so much determination she wasn't able to do it anymore? She opened her eyes to see what was going on.

As though a switch had been flipped, sounds and sensations roared back into her. She again felt the biting cold, again felt the strange emptiness in her chest that came with being without a soul. She was still alive, it seemed. Why?

Frisk looked up at Undyne in confusion and found something she'd never thought she'd find. Undyne looked...sad. But not just sad; no, she looked distraught and scared and  _pained._ As though whatever she was seeing at that moment was so terrible it wrenched her soul.

Frisk followed her gaze.

"Your soul, human. What happened to it?" 

Even Frisk couldn't stop her face from showing its shock when she looked. It was, quite honestly, a mess. Gone was the vibrant red soul she'd once had that had pumped fiercely with determination. Now its edges were translucent and dull, completely drained of life and slowly deteriorating further. The bright glow of a healthy soul had been replaced with a faint, lackluster glint that absorbed the light around it. The worst part, however, was the large crack running down the middle of it. 

Frisk pursed her lips. She knew exactly when that had happened. She'd felt the snap inside her right before she'd lost her tether to reality. 

She was drawn back from her thoughts when Undyne's spear disappeared and the monster herself took a step back from Frisk. "Human...the pain your soul has seen...I would not add to it."

"What?" the word flew from her mouth before she could stop it.

"And anyway," Undyne quickly regained her usual blustering tone, "it's completely useless! We need healthy souls, not souls on the verge of breaking. Your soul doesn't have enough strength in it to move one particle of the Barrier, let alone break a seventh of it!"

Frisk flinched, partially from Undyne's volume and partially from her words.

"So," Sans's voice piped up, "whaddya wanna do with the kid, then? No point in killing 'em if we're not gonna take the soul." 

Undyne huffed. "I don't care what happens to them. Just don't let them get in my way, or I might change my mind."

Overwhelmed by numbness, Frisk said nothing. She couldn't tear her eyes off the horrendous spectacle that was her soul.

Suddenly, it disappeared from sight. Frisk glanced wildly around between Sans and Undyne as the emptiness faded from her chest, telling her that her soul was back inside. She caught Sans's eye. He was looking at her with a sympathy she wouldn't have thought possible even a minute before. Thrown, Frisk looked away. Had seeing her soul been that disturbing for him?

"Hey kid, wanna stay with me and Paps? Can't promise ya much, but we'll give ya food. Uh, I can get ya some Grillby's if you're tired of spaghetti."

Frisk couldn't think of a place she wanted to stay  _less._ But at the same time, what choice did she have? If Sans wanted her to stay with them, he'd make her. Besides, who knew? Maybe staying with the brothers would lessen her chance of running into other hostile monsters.

"I'd suggest you accept, punk," Undyne put in. "The monsters in Snowdin aren't a very aggressive bunch, but go anywhere else in the Underground and that changes. Lots of us, well..."

"Want my soul to break the barrier," Frisk finished tonelessly.

"...yeah." Undyne exchanged an awkward glance with Sans.

Frisk remembered then that dream she'd once had of finding a mountain in Snowdin and making her home there. In light of Sans's offer, she couldn't help but long for her solitary mountain more than ever - even despite the impracticalities of life with little to no necessities and a huge risk of death. Not that that would be a new occurrence, of course.

She sighed heavily. "Fine. But I'm not sleeping on the floor. You can at least put me on the couch."

"Ugh, fine."

Later, she would wonder what had brought about this sudden change of heart in Sans. Perhaps, she would ponder, it was a desire to keep an eye on her; perhaps it was for the same reason Papyrus was acting so nice. Perhaps some twisted form of sympathy had finally wrenched its way into his skull. But that was later, and this was now. In this moment, she registered only a dull sense of defeat.

"Oh! And that reminds me, you mediocre bone-bag comedian! Why the hell did you let Papyrus keep the human in your house for three days!?"

Sans's grin changed a bit. Frisk thought it might have become a grimace. "Do we have to talk about this right now?"

"Hell yeah we do! You're not usually that stupid, Sans! Has your empty skull finally caught up to you?"

"I admit that was a  _brainless_ thing for me to do..."

"UGH! SANS!"

"But I had my reasons." 

There was a moment of quiet.

"...and would you care to share those reasons?"

Sans shrugged. "Nah."

"ARGH!!"

Frisk reflexively jumped backwards a few feet away from Undyne. 

"Sorry, Undyne," Sans said completely unapologetically. "I know something about this seems  _fishy_ to you-"

"SHUT UP!"

"But you know how Papyrus gets when he's  _reel-y_ into something-"

"FORGET I SAID ANYTHING! JUST SHUT UP!"

"And since I don't really want to  _debait_ you right now, I'll  _leaf_ you alone now."

"SANS I'M WARNING YOU!"

"...that last one wasn't even a fish pun."

Sans and Undyne slowly turned back to her as though remembering she was still there.

Frisk backed up a little bit. "J-just saying."

Undyne let out a loud, cackling laugh. "Look at what we got here! A human who stands up to monsters, nice! You normally like this, or what?"

"Uh..." Somehow, telling Undyne that Frisk's normal state was one of unfathomable terror didn't seem appropriate. "Not really." 

Another new instance this reset had been Sans's alarming amount of jokes.  _Terrible_ jokes. He'd complain about putting too much backbone into work that day. He'd wave various utensils around electrical circuits and announce the shocking turn of events about to happen. He'd glance up at the clock and wax poetic about how much he wished he could eat it, if it weren't so time consuming. The amount of bad jokes Sans had made in previous resets weren't even half of what he'd already made in this one. 

The strangest thing? Previous Sanses had always been varying levels of embarrassed whenever they were caught making a pun. This Sans not only made puns, but enjoyed people's adverse reactions to them. Papyrus and Undyne had both yelled at him for making said puns, but never once had he stopped. 

To be honest, it was time like those she wondered if he were even the same monster as from previous resets.

Back in the present, Undyne gave a disappointed huff. "That's too bad. You keep that up, I might even offer to train you so you look less like a limp noodle." 

"I, uh-"

"Welp, I think we'd best get going," Sans interrupted smoothly. "Paps'll be beside himself if we don't get back soon." 

Undyne threw Sans a sour look for the interruption. "You sure you can take care of the human?"

It was hard to tell, but Frisk thought Sans might've bristled. When he spoke, however, his tone was so casual she decided she must've been seeing things. "'Course. Whaddya take me for, some sorta slacker?" 

"That's exactly what I-"

"Woulda you look at the time!" Sans interrupted. "Looks like we gotta go." 

He appeared by Frisk's side and latched onto one arm. Before she could react, they were sucked into the void.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My take on Sans and Undyne's relationship: I don't think they'd be friends, at least not naturally. Their personalities clash almost as badly as Sans and Papyrus's (imo, the only reason Paps/Sans get along is because they grew up together and are related, since they don't seem to have anything in common). So, Sans tolerates Undyne, and Undyne tolerates Sans. But because Undyne is by nature a hard worker, she's prone to thinking less of lazy people. And Sans, of course, would hate being treated that way.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Side-note: if you notice that all of a sudden I'm using capital-D Determination AND lower-case d determination, that's intentional. Also, if you go back and read the parts where Frisk's thinking about her soul and such, but using determination when she should be using Determination, that's also intentional. She's never actually been told about souls, since the monsters were kinda busy killing her back in Underfell.

Seconds stretched into eternity as the void swallowed up every sound, every image, every sensation. Frisk screamed at Sans, fighting to pry off his hand, but he stayed resolute and motionless. Then finally, the void disappeared and reality poured in. 

Frisk took a deep, shuddering breath and forced Sans's hand off her shoulder with a violent tug she hadn't known she was capable of. She staggered forward until she found something strong to support her and leaned against it, pressing her forehead into the coolness of it. Her body was already exhausted from the day's events, but even so it was trying to panic once more. She didn't even know if there were a solid reason for it this time. Sans had only grabbed her shoulder, after all. 

"You alright, kid?" 

Frisk exhaled slowly and opened her eyes. Unsurprisingly she was leaning against a wall. From the look of it, it seemed to be one of the ones in Sans and Papyrus's house. She turned to Sans as her eyes quickly adjusted to the much dimmer lighting of indoors. Strangely enough, the expression fixed on his face wasn't a smirk or a sneer. She wasn't quite sure what it was, seeing as Sans's skeletal face could only emote so much, but it didn't seem threatening or mocking. 

"I'm fine." 

"If you say so." He paused for a moment, looking hesitant. "If you want, we could, uh. Go to Grillby's for dinner. So we could- so we could talk." 

Frisk turned away, lips forming a straight line. She couldn't think of anything less agreeable than that. At the same time, what if he threatened her into going no matter what she said? 

"You...don't have to come," Sans said after a few seconds, tone quieter than usual. "If ya want, I could bring you back something. Eating spaghetti three times a day gets pretty borin'."

Again, she didn't know what to say. She'd spent five months without even the smallest amount of decency directed her way. The old her would've accepted an offer like that in a heartbeat, if she hadn't gone along in the first place. But for even this small act of consideration to be given her didn't feel right. She couldn't help but wonder what Sans had up his sleeve. Perhaps he and Undyne were doing some sort of good cop, bad cop routine? But what they could want from her after her newly revealed uselessness was beyond her.

A sudden, chilling thought swept through her. Perhaps this was something similar to what American prisons did before execution. Wasn't it some sort of tradition to give the prisoner whatever they wanted for a meal the day before they died? What if Sans was only offering her this as pity before he killed her? After all, last she'd checked, he still thought she'd killed Papyrus in an alternate timeline. That thought was one she had to explore at a later time when she wasn't chin-deep in trauma. 

"I'm fine," she said again, hoping the answer would get him to leave her alone.

"I'm sure ya are. But d'ya want Grillby's or not?" Sans stepped backwards toward the door. "Last chance." 

She opened her mouth to respond but shut it once more. Sans huffed and opened the door, muttering an "Okay, then. Cya." 

The door clicked closed. Frisk stared at it suspiciously for a few seconds, but when it didn't reopen she relaxed slightly. Since Papyrus wasn't home - if he were, she would've heard him by now - it seemed she was alone. 

Frisk plopped down onto the sofa and stared blankly at the TV. It was tuned to what she was beginning to think was the only channel in Underfell: Mettaton's channel. He was in the middle of what seemed to be a...soap opera? The weird thing about it was that he was the only actor, so he somehow played six parts all in the span of a minute. After watching it for a few minutes, Frisk found herself tuning out from sheer boredom. Instead of the TV, her thoughts began to turn to her current situation.

She couldn't deny that things were different this time. Almost everything was different. Other than Flowey, every monster she'd met looked as dissimilar to their usual appearance as could be, and many of them were acting strangely. Although Frisk hadn't spent enough time with Toriel to really discern anything, Papyrus and Undyne were markedly different: still loud and energetic, but Papyrus seemed sweet and Undyne had showed Frisk mercy. That would never have happened in any previous reset.

Flowey...she felt a pang in her chest. Flowey had been her friend in the months she'd spent down here. They'd hadn't been intimately close, but shared near-death and actual death experiences had given the two a bond she'd thought was lasting. Out of all the monsters, she'd thought that he would be the least likely to share in some sort of Underfell-wide prank. 

But what other option could she consider? The only other choice was one she'd tried her hardest not to think about. 

What if these monsters...weren't the ones she knew?

A door slammed against the wall, startling Frisk out of her reverie and causing her to hold a couch cushion against herself protectively.

"SANS, HUMAN, I'M HOME!"

Papyrus paraded into the living room, scarf magically fluttering about him. He was holding what looked to be a grocery bag of sorts and looked extremely pleased. He glanced about, locked eyes with Frisk, and gave her a mega-watt grin.

"THERE YOU ARE! BUNNY, OUR GROCER, GAVE ME EXTRA-SPECIAL PASTA INGREDIENTS, YIPPEE! I THOUGHT I WOULD USE THEM TONIGHT TO COOK YOU A SPECIAL MEAL, SINCE I WILL NOT BE SEEING YOU AGAIN FOR A WHILE!"

For a while? Did Papyrus not know what would've happened if Undyne hadn't spared her? 

Frisk gave a short, stiff nod. Regardless of if he knew or not, he didn't need to know what had transpired mere minutes ago. She suspected that, despite what Undyne had said, either Sans or Papyrus would be killing her in the next few days. Now that she couldn't reset she needed the extra time in order to plan an escape, even if it didn't work. Now that her survival instinct had been rekindled, she'd rather die trying than give up the remaining remnants of her determination and be slaughtered like an innocent lamb. 

"BY THE WAY, WHERE IS SANS? I THOUGHT HE WOULD'VE HEARD ME BY NOW."

She scoffed. She was entirely positive that every monster within a thirty-yard radius of this house could hear Papyrus. 

"He's...probably upstairs sleeping," she muttered, unwilling to inform Papyrus that she was alone. "I'm sure he'll be down shortly."

"OH, OKAY." Papyrus nodded a few times, spun, and strode into the kitchen. "I WILL BEGIN PREPARING OUR MEAL, THEN."

Frisk left that without a response. She lay back on the couch again and trained her eyes towards the TV once more. Thankfully, Mettaton had gone absent in the few minutes she'd been turned away. In his stead was a monster Frisk had never seen before who was talking about...souls?

"Human souls," he was saying, in a very deep, documentary type of voice, "are very different from monster souls."

An assortment of different-colored hearts popped into view. With a hint of unease, Frisk noticed a familiar red heart - unblemished, like hers had once been - among the rest. She'd heard that there were apparently seven humans before her, so she guessed that one of them must've had a similar soul to hers. It still felt strange, though.

"Although monsters are almost entirely magical with each species having varying amounts of magic, the only magical part of humans is their soul. That is why their souls are colored, while ours are white. Some theorize that all souls show their owner's traits. Monster souls are theorized to have six of the known traits, such as perseverance, kindness, or courage. Humans are supposed to have a maximum of three dominant traits inside their souls, with the strongest trait creating the soul's color. However, this is only theory."

Papyrus dropped something, causing a loud clang that made Frisk flinch. She recovered quickly, though, completely absorbed. The few times she'd seen a monster's soul they hadn't seemed white. They'd seemed...grayish, almost. Some darker gray than others. 

The stark black of Undyne's soul, the iron-gray of Sans's, and the steel of Papyrus and Asgore's made her cringe in remembrance. 

"One distinctive difference between human souls and monster souls," the monster continued, pointing to a picture which contained examples of both, "is that humans have a naturally occurring, large amount of Determination in their souls while monsters do not. Obviously monsters have determination, in that they have the will to live or the drive to succeed, but monsters cannot have a large amount of Determination with a capital D without overloading their magical energy and melting. Nearly all humans have a naturally occurring source of Determination in their souls. Therefore, the respective power a human has compared to a monster is exponential. Think of it like two variables being multiplied together: a soul's strength times its Determination equals the amount of power inside it.

"Now, the antithesis of Determination, a lesser known trait which all souls can have, is known to turn souls dark. This trait is called-"

Papyrus bustled out of the kitchen and practically leaped in front of Frisk, blocking her view of the TV. "HUMAN! THE CELEBRATORY SPAGHETTI IS NEARLY FINISHED!"

Seriously? The documentary had just been getting to the good part! Frisk glared at Papyrus and gritted out, "That's nice." 

Papyrus nodded enthusiastically. "YES, IT IS! HUMAN, WOULD YOU MIND GOING UPSTAIRS TO WAKE UP SANS?" 

Frisk just barely fought down a grimace. "Of...course."

Papyrus thanked her and strode back into the kitchen.

The TV announcer was still talking. Frisk caught snatches of speech as she tried to think of a solution to the dilemma she'd gotten herself into.

"-through natural means, a human soul's Determination cannot be-"

"-although the trait determination can be-"

"-in addition, monsters' Determination can be drained but-"

Frisk huffed. There was nothing else to do. She had to go upstairs, pretend to look for him, then report back that he'd mysteriously gone missing. She heaved herself off the couch, cast the TV one last longing look, and shuffled up the steps. She opened the door and made a pointless show of looking around the room before padding right back down.

"WELL?" Papyrus asked from the kitchen, presumably hearing her footsteps descend the stairs.

"He's not in his room," she replied. Then, as confidently as she could, "Maybe he decided to go to Grillby's?" 

Her voice came out nearly as a squeak, but Papyrus didn't seem to notice. Instead, he just sighed. "I WILL NEVER UNDERSTAND WHY MY BROTHER INSISTS ON EATING THAT JUNK. OH, WELL. I GUESS THERE IS MORE FOR US, THEN!"

Frisk didn't favor that with a response. She sat back down on the couch. The monster seemed to be wrapping up the program, as he was giving a brief summary of everything they'd gone through: human souls were colored; human souls could have Determination; monster souls were the opposite; Determination could not be taken from a soul...

Frisk yawned and tuned out. She settled back into the couch and closed her eyes briefly. After all, she'd only had around five hours of sleep, give or take, and then she'd had all that crap that had come afterwards with dissociating, panicking, and nearly killing Sans. Which...still bothered her. Not because she liked him (hell no, she hated him with everything in her), but because...

She hadn't thought she was that  _weak._ At the very first opportunity she'd had, she had immediately attempted to kill him. 

Gran would be ashamed, she thought, and her stomach curdled unpleasantly with guilt. 

"FRISK! THE CELEBRATORY SPAGHETTI IS READY!" 

Right on cue Papyrus emerged from the kitchen with two steaming plates of spaghetti in his hands. He set them on the table set against the wall, before pulling it out and conjuring up two chairs out of bones.

Frisk blinked at the sight, less freaked out than she would've been three days before. Sans usually ate his food in his room or on the couch, but she'd noticed that Papyrus seemed to like eating at a table. He'd conjured up the bone-chairs a few times before. The first time had nearly scared her out of her wits. 

"FRISK, COME SIT!"

She reluctantly stood up and approached the table. She pulled her chair and plate as far away from Papyrus as physically possible, before sitting down and reluctantly digging in. Surprisingly, it was slightly better than she was accustomed to - the sauce was actually seasoned semi-properly, and the noodles were reasonably soft. When Papyrus asked her how it was she allowed a grudging nod. It somehow served to catapult him into an ecstasy of happiness.

"FINALLY YOU HAVE COME TO SEE THE MAJESTY OF HOME-COOKED SPAGHETTI! OH, HOW I HAVE LONGED TO SEE THIS DAY, DEAR HUMAN FRIEND FRISK! I WISH ONLY THAT IT HAD COME SOONER, THAT WE WOULD HAVE HAD MORE TIME TO ENJOY SPAGHETTI TOGETHER!"

Frisk smiled awkwardly. She would've liked not to react at all, but Papyrus's impassioned speech needed some kind of response, however small. 

"TO BE HONEST, FRISK..." Papyrus's voice suddenly quieted a little. It was still above normal volume, but she recognized it must be his version of lowering his voice. "I WISH WE HAD GOTTEN TO KNOW EACH OTHER BETTER. NOW YOU ARE GOING AWAY AND I WON'T SEE YOU FOR A VERY LONG WHILE! IT IS VERY SAD, BUT I SUPPOSE YOU FEEL CALLED TO GO BACK TO THE SURFACE WHERE YOU BELONG."

Go  _where?_

"Uh, Papyrus..." the words flew out before she could stop them. "I'm not going back to the Surface."

She wasn't sure what she expected: a sinister laugh, perhaps. An 'of course you're not, I'm going to kill you right now!' 

Not...confusion.

"OH? THAT IS NOT WHAT SANS TOLD ME. WHERE ARE YOU GOING THEN?" 

"Um...I'm..." she stared across the table at Papyrus. His eyes were so very different from the Papyrus she was used to. There was no cruelty or malice or sadism, only a childlike innocence and naivety. And suddenly she realized with absolute certainty that  _Papyrus actually didn't know._ He didn't know Undyne had been going to kill her. He didn't know Sans would've done it in Undyne's place.

How? How could he not know something the two closest people in his life were both in on? But at the same time, if he didn't know, could she really tell him? Even if this were a front - no, it couldn't be, those eyes were so  _innocent -_ could she really tell someone who could look like that that his brother and best friend wanted to murder her?

She remembered what she'd thought barely an hour before. She'd wondered if these monsters could really be the same ones she was used to. The same ones with darkened souls and red eyes. She still wasn't sure. 

But the Papyrus she knew would never,  _could_ never, look like that.

"...going to stay here, actually," she finished awkwardly. 

The reaction was instantaneous. Papyrus lit up. She swore there were literal sparkles floating about him as he leaped up from the table and went to grab her, before she flinched and he backed away abashedly. He settled instead for giving a passionate speech about their blossoming friendship and how he hoped she would also grow 'much, much closer to my dearest brother as well!'

Heh. Yeah, right.

Finally Papyrus's enthusiasm abated. Frisk stood up. Papyrus had taken their dishes into the kitchen to clean them, so Frisk sat back down on the couch. Papyrus had turned the TV off while they were eating and she didn't feel like standing up to turn it back on, so she just stared blankly at the black screen in an attempt to process her thoughts.

She supposed this ground-breaking revelation wasn't really all that unexpected after all. Even from the beginning things had been different, starting with her closest friend abandoning her. Now one of her fiercest enemies hadn't even known his brother wanted her dead. 

She sighed. There was no way to reconcile the Papyrus she'd known previously and the Papyrus in the kitchen now, clacking plates and silverware together loud enough to break them.

There was no other way around it, no other way to say it. This Papyrus was a completely different person from the Papyrus she knew.

And whether that meant every monster was different, whether that meant this entire Underground was different...well. She'd come to that conclusion later.

 

* * *

 

_Far away, galaxies apart and timelines separated from Frisk, she watched and listened._

_She hadn't expected Frisk to piece it together so quickly. She'd thought that the abuse Frisk had suffered would've been more than enough to cripple her decidedly for months. At the very least, she'd thought that that oh-so-convenient knife would've caused the girl to break and kick-start a Genocide. But this Frisk seemed made of sterner stuff than the children she was accustomed to watching. Interesting. And infuriating. It seemed she would need to move onto plan C._

_Although that infernal smiling threadbag had screwed her plans up in Underfell, she had her ways. She always had another plan, another trick up her sleeve. She'd been alive through countless resets and innumerable timelines. She knew how to turn anything to her use, even the kindness and sympathy of a naive, spaghetti-loving skeleton._

_After all...betrayal always hurts the most when you start to trust those you never thought you could trust._

_She just needed time._

_And oh, did she have time._

_Chara let out a low, cruel laugh._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, there you go. The first look into the actual plot of this fic. Scared yet?  
> Good. You should be.
> 
> *evil laugh*


	8. Chapter 8

In light of her previous revelation, Frisk went into Sans's room and sat down among the dirty socks and crumpled paper scattered across his floor. Because of their agreement, she had no need to be in there, but something prevented her from leaving. Whereas even an hour before she'd wanted to avoid Sans at all costs, now something new burned within her: curiosity. Was this Sans different from the Sans she thought he was?

That same burning curiosity had been with her all her life. It had driven her to dual enroll at community college as a junior in high-school; it had pushed her to take three government and politics classes senior year; it had propelled her to double-major in psychology and political science in order to learn everything she could as quickly as she could. That curiosity had given her As, entrance into a prestigious college, and prospects for a well-paying job once she graduated from Vanderbilt. Now it possibly doomed her to the whims of a serial killer.

It was for that that she waited, minute after minute, expecting at any moment for Sans to walk through the door. The light outside his window gradually darkened to black, until only the overhead light in his room provided any illumination. It cast deep shadows across Frisk. She hugged her knees to her chest. She'd always been afraid of the dark and the unknown. She  _really_ hoped Sans got back soon-

_Pop._

"Kid, what are you-"

Whatever Sans had been going to say was lost in the startled shriek Frisk made. She shot to her feet and away from the voice sounding mere inches behind her. Her hand grabbed for the door.

"C'mon kid, seriously?"

The edges of his finger-bones caught at her arm. Frisk tore away and shoved the door open. She tried to move, but stumbled in the pitch-black hallway. The faint light emanating from Sans's room was barely enough for her to see her feet, and she'd only made it three steps down the hall before Sans was in front of her, somehow towering menacingly over her despite being two inches shorter. 

"C a l m  d o w n."

She didn't even have much of a reason to be scared - he'd only startled her, after all. It was with a clear sense of annoyance at herself that she tried to calm down. She forced her panic into a tight ball inside her chest and stepped away from Sans, closed her eyes, and forced herself to take a deep breath. But it was too deep, too slow of a breath and she felt like she was suffocating, just like she had that one time Sans had pinned her against a wall and ripped her-

"Frisk, calm down!"

Sans sounded frustrated. Somehow, his irritation made her irritated with him. She opened her eyes and glared at him. "I am calm!"

"Yeah, you look it."

Damn, she hated him.

The vehemence with which her mind gave tongue to that thought startled her for a second. She wasn't a hateful person by nature: she was rather used to blaming herself for everything, excusing others for any wrongdoing they committed. It wasn't a normal thing for her to hate a person like this. It wasn't normal for her to just look at a person and feel a surge of vitriol through her gut. Yet here she was.

She almost punched him, but remembered herself just in time. If she'd been an ounce braver or a tad more reckless, perhaps she wouldn't have stopped herself. As it was, she forced herself to be content with an angry stare and a mental spew of profanities. 

There was a short silence. They glanced from each other to Papyrus's still-shut door and back to each other again. Sans's face was ghastly white and deeply shadowed in the near-darkness. His eye-lights shone clearly through the gloom, piercing through flesh and bone all the way to her heart. Frisk shifted uncomfortably. She'd long before gotten used to seeing skeletons, but there were times they still unnerved her. Even disregarding her bad times concerning them, something about a moving skeleton with no flesh or muscle or bone was just plain  _wrong._

"Uh," Sans started, "why were you in my room again? I told you to sleep on the couch."

"I..." Really, what could she say? Just this morning they'd been mortal foes. Now Sans wasn't outwardly trying to kill her, but she could still sense his hatred of her. And she hated him right back. There was really no plausible explanation she could have for waiting for him to return to his room. 

Her eyes fell onto the white, greasy paper bag Sans held in his hands. Her stomach grumbled. She'd eaten practically nothing of Papyrus's dinner, partially from its being inedible and partially from fear. The fear was still there, but at least this food smelled edible.  _Very_ edible. 

"Really? I asked you and everything, and now you want something?"

Frisk flinched and edged towards the stairs. "No..."

Sans sighed. "You're a terrible liar, kid...welp, I guess I did promise to feed you."

Sans pushed past her, walked back into his room, and sat down on his bed. Frisk followed, hovering awkwardly at the foot of the bed. She watched as he opened the bag and pulled out a burger and two containers of fries. He offered one of those to Frisk with the words, "Figured you might want something after all."

Frisk took the fries and retreated a few steps. She thought about asking him what he would've done if she'd not wanted the fries after all, but decided she didn't care enough to know. Then she hesitated a moment longer, not sure if she should stay or not. When Sans pointedly ignored her and began chowing down on his food, she decided that was a no and quietly slipped out. She was relieved when he didn't try to stop her.

Frisk tiptoed down the stairs in pitch-darkness. She nearly tripped four times. She groped her way through the blackness until her eyes adjusted enough to see the thin slivers of light coming through the windows. The light, she knew, came from thousands of glowing crystals, the Underground's version of stars. She'd always thought they were beautiful but sad. 

Frisk dropped onto the couch with a sigh. The light was just enough that she could make out dim outlines of the sparse furniture in the room. She shoved a handful of fries in her mouth, barely tasting them, and stared at the silhouette of the TV. Now that she was alone, her heart had finally calmed down. It had relegated itself to a slow, steady thud-thud that was strangely reassuring. Frisk tilted her head back into the couch and closed her eyes.

What was her next move? She couldn't stay here forever - she didn't want to stay here forever. Really, if she'd had a better option than roughing it out in the wilderness by herself, she would've already taken it. But as Undyne had said, pretty much every monster wanted her dead. At least here there was Papyrus, the first legitimately innocent monster she'd ever met, and Sans, who seemed convinced of the illogic of murdering her right now. 

What she wanted more than anything was to go home. She wanted to see Gran again. She wanted to hang out with Rosa, her best friend, and see Rosa's dog Chika. Months of death and suffering had dulled Frisk's memories so much she could barely remember their faces any more. She wished she'd had her phone with her when she'd fallen, just so she could see them again. 

From the time she'd fallen, Frisk had known her goal. Monsters everywhere had sung of Asgore and the human souls he'd collected. Flowey had told her of the barrier that, if broken, could get her back home. Toriel had nearly gone demented the moment Frisk had mentioned leaving the Ruins to go to New Home. 

Her destination was the same: she had to get to New Home. She had to get past Asgore. She had to break the barrier. It was either that or resigning herself to the slow rending of her soul and the aching loss of losing her loved ones to the disintegration of memory. 

But how? So many times had she tried to get to New Home, and so many times had she failed. She'd only ever faced Asgore once. The death he'd given her had been painless, almost merciful - if indeed a death could ever be called merciful. But it had cemented in her the knowledge that she could never succeed. Even if she could avoid Papyrus, even if she could trick Undyne, even if she could survive Sans, there was always Asgore.

And Asgore could not be defeated. Because she'd made a promise.

And because of that, the barrier could never be broken. She remembered Flowey's words from what felt like a million years ago. 'Two souls to break the barrier, Frisk: one human, one monster.' The barrier could not be broken unless she killed or was killed. She had no way out.

Frisk clenched her hands into fists so tight that the fries container crumpled.

"No," she murmured. "No, that's not right. There has to be another way."

There had to be a loophole. There had to be an escape. It was like politics, like law: there was always another way. Always a way to exploit a weakness. There  _had_ to be. Because if there weren't, the only freedom left for her would be death.

 

* * *

 

The next morning dawned clear and bright. Frisk woke up at sunrise from a fitful sleep plagued with nightmares. Outside, she could hear all the various species of bird the Underground possessed chirping and twittering. Most days she found their incessant chattering annoying. Whether it was from the utter loneliness of her restless night or the simple fact she was still alive, today she found it calming. She was alive, she was okay, she was uninjured. Anything after that could wait.

And wait she did, for approximately fifty-two minutes and forty seconds. On second forty-one, Papyrus's bedroom door banged open and he leaped down the stairs towards her.

"GOOD MORNING, HUMAN! IT IS A GREAT DAY, IS IT NOT?"

"Uh...yeah, I guess so."

"I AM GLAD YOU AGREE! SINCE YOU ARE STAYING WITH US, HOW WOULD YOU LIKE TO COME WITH ME FOR MY DAILY EARLY-MORNING WORKOUT?"

"I'm good, thanks." The thought of having to train with the skeleton who'd repeatedly slaughtered her didn't sit well.

"THAT IS A PITY. HOWEVER, I UNDERSTAND THAT THE THOUGHT OF TRAINING WITH THE GREAT PAPYRUS CAN BE VERY INTIMIDATING. I WILL ALLOW YOU ONE MORE DAY IN ORDER TO BE LESS INTIMIDATED. NYEH HEH HEH!"

He really had a strange laugh, she thought. Most people's laughs were along the lines of 'haha' or 'heh' or such. Papyrus? He really was great. Greatly different from anyone she'd ever heard before.

Frisk muttered out a thanks and turned away. Papyrus sped out the door, shutting it with a bang that shook the whole house. Frisk glanced up at Sans's door in case it'd woken him up, but the skeleton didn't emerge. She guessed he must be so used to his brother that he could sleep through that. Frisk sighed, fumbled for the remote, and turned on the TV.

Mettaton's all too familiar face popped onto the screen.

"Seriously?" she groaned. "Don't they have anyother actors?"

Frisk punched at the remote controls, searching for the change channel button. A quick survey of the remote came with the discovery that there was nothing of the sort, and therefore only one channel in the Underground. Ugh. As if the Underground weren't bad enough already.

Listlessly she sank deeper in the couch cushions and resigned herself to watching Mettaton. At the very least, she told herself, he wasn't doing a rom-com this time around. That had to count for something. She would actually lose it if she ever had to see Mettaton kiss someone again.

In lieu of the rom-com, weirdly enough, there seemed to be some sort of sci-fi show going on. Frisk hadn't even known monsters  _did_ sci-fi. After all, humans' version of sci-fi tended to include alien monsters. 

But Mettaton was clearly doing sci-fi. He'd apparently ditched the unattractive calculator look and was in full robot mode. Although that was a little odd, it wasn't the strangest part. After all, Frisk had noticed that he tended to use his humanoid mode when he was acting, such as in rom-coms or comedies. That was normal. What wasn't normal was the red glow his eyes had taken on instead of their normal metallic-teal gleam. He was dressed in a weird costume vaguely reminiscent of a Jedi but without a weapon. Taken together, the whole ensemble was eerie. 

Mettaton turned to face the screen. Seen straight on, his eyes were even more disconcerting.

"All little monsters know the story about how the CORE came into existence, do they not?" His voice also sounded strangely higher-pitched than normal. "King Asgore commissioned his Royal Scientist at the time - not Doctor Alphys, but Doctor G - to build a power core that could keep the Underground going until we could break the Barrier and make it to the Surface once more."

A scene faded in: Mettaton, now dressed in a lab coat with glasses, was talking to a monster in a terribly-designed goat costume with a crown. The goat-monster pointed to the paper he was holding, on which was a set of drawings depicting CORE blueprints. A voice-over, starring Mettaton, continued. His voice was a prime example of the cheesy, over-dramatized acting Frisk absolutely abhorred.

"Now, in order to power the CORE, the plan was to use energy from the Earth's core itself. But there was a catch."

There was a pause; then frowny-faced confetti rained around the two figures and dramatic piano music started up.

"Doctor G and King Asgore realized the CORE was missing something, something preventing it from being fully functional." Mettaton paused. "A monster's soul."

The scene changed. The two figures traveled from house to house, asking each monster family for something. Each time they came up empty. Then finally they walked into what Frisk guessed was the monster infirmary. They came into a room just in time to see a monster slowly turn to dust. Mettaton, as Doctor G, leaped forward and injected the disintegrating monster with a strange reddish liquid. The monster's soul suddenly stopped disintegrating and slowly began to heal itself.

"Doctor G had discovered a way to make a monster's soul linger after death. Through the war with the humans, he'd managed to extract and keep several humans's Determination. He'd found that if he injected just the smallest amount of this Determination - mixed with a few other key ingredients - into a monster's soul before death, it would stay as it was, perfectly preserved. So Doctor G and Asgore took this innocent monster's soul with them and put it into the CORE. It is the only known monster soul to have lingered substantially beyond its death. It is because of that that our CORE works as it does."

The scene cut back to Mettaton. She caught the metallic gleam of his eyes before he turned away. "I- and that...is all, ladies and gents and otherwise inclined! Tune in Wednesday for the thrilling sequel of To Thrill A Blue Jay!"

There was staged applause and the credits began to play. 

Frisk tucked her feet in behind her on the couch. Mettaton's horrible acting aside, that story was one she'd never heard before. Sometimes it was amazing just thinking of all the centuries of monster history no humans had ever known and no humans ever would know. She wasn't the biggest history nut, but even she was fascinated by the thought of an entire culture she'd never known about. Monsters had customs, biology, politics, and history that she was entirely lost in, even after months. 

But, thinking back to all that Mettaton had said, she couldn't believe her luck. Just last night she'd despaired of ever being able to break the Barrier without a monster's soul. Mettaton had revealed that there was a monster's soul, perfectly preserved and waiting to be taken. And she even knew where! The CORE wasn't that big of a place, after all. All she had to do was make it to the CORE, find and take the soul, get past Asgore, and she was free.

Free.

Five months of hell and finally she'd be free.

A smile stole across Frisk's face, the first smile she'd had for months. 

"Whatcha smilin' bout, kid?"

Her smile abruptly faded.

"Nothing."

Frisk looked up at Sans and gave an instinctive frown of distaste. He looked as casual as ever: hands in the pockets of his hoodie, weight back on his heels, and grin fixed on her. She had no recollection of seeing his door open. Knowing him, he might've just teleported next to her to see if she'd jump. 

"So, have you decided what you're gonna do yet?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well." Sans stared straight at her. "Neither of us like each other. That's pretty clear. So I'll be upfront and say this: the sooner you get outta my house, the better. I don't wanna kill you, 'cuz that's a waste of energy and time. But I don't wanna see you around either."

She almost glared back at him and retorted, "Right back at you." She stopped herself just in time. No matter how large their mutual hatred was, he was still far more powerful than she was. Even if he were too lazy to kill her, there were plenty of other things he could do.

"I'm gonna go to the CORE," she told him, "and from there, New Home. I want to get out of here just as much as you want me to."

Something strange flickered over Sans's face at her first sentence. As odd and inhuman as his face was, and as inexperienced as Frisk was at reading him, she had no idea what the emotion was. 

"Good. When are you leaving?"

"Soon," she said, rather vaguely. The truth was, even now that she had an actual hope for freedom, getting there was still going to be difficult. She didn't want to have to go through what she'd gone through in the past, not again. She'd been hurt enough for a thousand lifetimes. The thought of tallying up the one thousandth and first was nauseating.

Sans huffed. "What's stalling you? The monsters in Snowdin shouldn't be tryna hurt you or anything."

"The CORE's a little past Snowdin," she bit back, crossing her arms. She considered standing up from the couch so she could be on equal footing with him but decided not to bother.

"What, do you want me to walk you there or something? I'm not a taxi service, sweetheart."

"I was planning on taking the ferry," Frisk mumbled. "The River Person's pretty nice. At least, they used to be."

Sans contemplated her for a second, then nodded slowly. "As much as I want you out quickly, I think you should stay until Paps comes back. He'd be really upset if you left without saying goodbye. I've no idea why, but he actually likes you."

Frisk didn't respond. Didn't really know how to.

"'Course, he likes everyone. Even when he shouldn't. If Undyne 'n I weren't around to keep him safe...he would've been ripped into little, smiling shreds." Sans flicked his eyes up to hers accusingly. "Already has been, actually."

"How many fuckingtimes do I have to tell you, it wasn't me? Papyrus ripped  _me_ into little, unsmiling shreds."

Sans's grin took on an edge. "How come I don't remember that, then?"

"I bet you don't remember my being so damaged, now do you? That mass-murdering Frisk  _you_ know probably would never go around having panic attacks and the like."

"I figured I just hadn't killed you enough before now." He sighed, closing his eyes for a second. His grin faded a bit. "I will admit, though. You're different. Older, for one. And your soul...well. That's the one thing you can't fake."

Frisk bit her lip at the mention of her soul. "I guess the Frisk's soul you knew before was different?"

"Yeah. Mind you, the Frisk I knew before wasn't always bad. Sometimes, they were great. Once they even got us to the Surface. They died shortly after, though, and the whole timeline reset. I'm still not sure if they meant to reset."

"They?" Frisk cocked her head. She recalled all the times she'd heard Sans, Undyne, and Papyrus refer to her using they or them. "Uh...you do know that humans have the same pronouns as monsters, right? We go by he and her too, not just they."

"Of course we know. They've always asked us to call them that. I just assumed you were the same. I guess Undyne and Paps must've remembered it from previous times."

"Oh...well I'm a she. That's weird that another version of...me, I guess, goes by they." She wondered if that meant the other Frisk had a male or female body. Identifying differently was one thing. Actually being a gender-bend of her was quite another. She could accept age differences, and even some personality changes - after all, a large part of personality is formed via your upbringing. She wasn't sure she could accept their having an entirely different body from hers. Or, really, identifying differently. But she'd worry about that later.

"Was their soul like mine? Red?"

"Yeah. Every time I've met a Frisk, you've had a red soul. You've also always had an astronomical amount of Determination in it. Even yours does, and it's in the worst shape I've ever seen a soul. It's about  _red_ -y to crack."

Frisk swallowed. "What happens when it cracks?"

Sans made a finger gun and pulled the trigger.

She felt faintly nauseous. "Right."

"I've seen their soul become gray from the amount of dust covering it," Sans said slowly, after a moment of silence. "I've seen it so burdened by the weight of their sins they could barely move. Karma, 's what it was. I've seen it darkened with hatred for us monsters, for every living creature, for this entire world. I've seen it  _light up_ in anticipation of a kill. I've also seen it at such a pale red it was almost pink, in line with their despair, and I've seen it perfectly healthy, brilliant red with Determination. Never, though...never has it been like yours."

He paused. His eyes were subdued and dimmer than usual. "You're supposed to have the same soul each time you RESET, you know. You don't get to toss it in the trash and pick out a new one each time you screw the timeline. So oftentimes, the affects of a previous timeline will last into the next. A soul I put Karmic Retribution on will still have the affects of it even after the owner RESETs. Toriel, as a boss monster, 's such a powerful healer she can even heal souls - not that she knows it, o' course, but I figured it out after a few tries - and she'll generally heal the worst of the damage before they ever meet me again."

"Why didn't it work for me, then?"

"That's...what I don't know." Sans huffed.

"Usually, the state of a soul is based on the actions of its owner. With a soul like yours...well, there's no action you could undertake that would harm your soul in this fashion. Something, some _one,_ has done this to you. That's the only reason I'm considering your story that you're different. The damage your soul has is inconsistent with what the last Frisk-" his expression darkened "-had."

Frisk hesitated, unsure if she should ask. While she did, Sans seemingly recovered from his recollection.

"Welp," he said, "that was enough info for today. I think I've told you everything you needa know. Once Paps comes back, you're gonna say your goodbyes and then I hope to never see you again."

"If I can break the Barrier," Frisk said quietly, "you will never see me again. I promise."

Sans let out a hollow laugh. "Haven't you learned, kid? Never make promises."

There was a silence. Then Frisk blinked.

When she opened her eyes, she was alone.


	9. Chapter 9

"SANS, HUMAN, I'M HOME!"

Papyrus entered the house with the same aplomb as always, lugging a load of paper bags as he came. Groceries, Frisk guessed. The skeleton set the bags in the kitchen and turned around. 

"HUMAN FRISK, YOU'RE HERE! WOULD YOU HAPPEN TO KNOW WHERE MY LAZYBONES OF A BROTHER IS?"

She shook her head. "He disappeared a couple hours ago." She'd been on the couch ever since.

"I SEE. IN THAT CASE, WOULD YOU BE ALRIGHT IF I SAT ON THE COUCH WITH YOU AND WATCHED TV?"

Frisk paused. Neither of the brothers had ever asked to do something like that before. "I...sure, I guess."

She scooted over to one side of the couch; Papyrus plopped down on the other. His massive size meant he took up practically the whole sofa, leaving one tiny corner for Frisk. 

There was silence for a moment. The two of them just sat there and watched what amounted to a monster version of a rom-com, Mettaton and all.

Then Papyrus turned and said, ever so casually, "SAY, FRISK. I HAVE BEEN MEANING TO ASK YOU SOMETHING."

That couldn't be good. She turned to face him. "Yes?"

Papyrus hesitated, a move that was strange for the normally impulsive skeleton. "FORGIVE ME, BUT I HAVE NOT BEEN ABLE TO HELP MYSELF FROM NOTICING THAT YOU..." he paused, seemed almost to swallow. His voice dipped in volume. "You are not very...comfortable. With monsters."

While that was true, Frisk hadn't expected Papyrus to pick up on it. She'd always thought most things flew straight over his head. Now she couldn't help but wonder if he was in actuality perceptive, just good at seeming like he wasn't. Or maybe this Papyrus was just different. 

"I originally thought it was simply that you were unaccustomed to the Great Papyrus and his awesome ways, but now I believe it is something else." Another pause. "...Frisk, you fear us, do you not?"

Swallowing, Frisk found that the hatred and venom she would've given any other monster who dared ask such a question was missing. Papyrus's eyes were sincere, as was his tone. 

"I..."

"It is alright, Frisk." Papyrus's voice was strangely gentle. "Undyne told me about your soul. I understand it must be very difficult to be alright when your soul is in such a state." 

"Undyne told you about my soul?"

Papyrus nodded his head sagely. "She did. Well, she didn't say exactly what had...happened to it, but I understand it is not strong enough to break the barrier. Something happened to you that made you afraid of us, and it has also weakened your soul. Am I right?"

Frisk took a deep breath. She was alone with Papyrus, no Sans or Undyne to interrupt. If she was correct in thinking that Papyrus was truly different, maybe he'd understand. Maybe he would even sympathize!

"Papyrus, what gender am I?"

Papyrus paused. "I...something tells me you are nonbinary, but I do not know why I- I do not want to assume-"

His awkwardness was almost endearing. "I'm female, actually. It's strange that you instantly thought of me as nonbinary, isn't it?"

"YES!" in his anxiety over messing her gender up, Papyrus's voice rocketed up in volume. "I AM VERY SORRY, HUMAN FRISK! SOMETIMES I JUST GET THESE STRANGE FEELINGS AND-"

"No, no, don't apologize. That's actually the point I was trying to make." Frisk leaned forward. "You keep getting these strange senses of deja vu, right? Here's the thing: you aren't the only one."

"I'M NOT?" Papyrus asked, then repeated a little quieter, "I'm not?"

"Nope. Undyne and Sans have both referred to me as a they. Sans automatically knew my name, just like you. He's also made references to things I've never actually done..." Frisk paused very deliberately. "...in this timeline."

Papyrus's eyelights widened, then narrowed. She had his full attention now.

"I'm aware I sound completely insane, but hear me out. You know how monsters all have magic?"

Papyrus nodded, that strangely intense concentration not wavering.

"Humans did, too - that's how those human mages sealed you here in the first place. The thing is, after that, we pretty much lost our magic. There aren't any mages up on the surface anymore, at least as far as I know. However, as soon as I fell down here, something changed."

She remembered it still. Her first death had been pathetically anticlimactic: she'd tripped and fallen headfirst off one of the Ruins' few cliffs. She remembered an intense agony  through her entire body, then a moment of curious detachment. When she'd next tried to open her eyes, it was to utter darkness.

She'd started to panic there for an instant, disoriented and scared and terrified that that was it, she'd  _died_ without even realizing it. Then two buttons had appeared out of the void.

❤ Continue                 Reset

Not even knowing what she was doing, she'd selected the first option. She ended right back up at the buttercups, this time with a startled Flowey who explained everything.

"Something about the inherently magical nature of you monsters activated the latent Determination inside me and gave me magic. I gained the ability to turn back time."

She paused to check on Papyrus. He didn't seem surprised, just like this confirmed something he'd already suspected. Was it possible he remembered more than she'd thought?

"Over the past three months - for me, anyway - I've used these powers to...um, basically come back to life every time one of you...uh, killed me. Again, I know it sounds crazy, but if you look at it from this timeline I've only been in the Underground for a handful of days. There's no way for me to know the stuff I do, unless you accept that I've been here longer."

"So...what you are saying, human, is...we have killed you? Multiple times?" Somehow, impossibly, there were tears gathering in Papyrus's eyes. 

"Yes, but uh it's- it's fi- don't cry it's-"

But it was too late. Papyrus began to full on wail, letting out a stream of pitiful _nyoo hoo hoo's_.

"IT IS NOT FINE! NO CREATURE DESERVES WHAT YOU HAVE GONE THROUGH, LEAST OF ALL A FRIEND OF THE GREAT PAPYRUS! OH-" here he broke off to sob some more, clutching a couch cushion in lieu of Frisk. 

Frisk slid her gaze from side to side, feeling intensely awkward. She had no idea how to deal with this. How in the world was she supposed to comfort the same monster - or at least a similar one to the one - who'd killed her multiple times? It was hard enough even sitting next to him. Yet, some long-lost sympathy woke inside her and she found herself reaching out a tentative hand to settle on top of the cushion. 

Hey, it was something.

"THAT SETTLES IT!" Papyrus said, a few minutes of intense crying later. 

"...what settles what?"

"YOU ARE NOT LEAVING HERE UNTIL YOUR SOUL IS IN MUCH BETTER SHAPE! I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, MUST MAKE SURE MY FRIEND'S SOUL IS IN TIP-TOP CONDITION!"

"Papyrus, that's- that's really nice, but I promised Sans-"

Papyrus abruptly locked eyes with her. Frisk fought the urge to jerk backwards. "I DO NOT CARE WHAT YOU PROMISED THAT LAZYBONES! IT HAS NOT ESCAPED MY NOTICE THAT HE IS HOLDING A GRUDGE AGAINST YOU, FOR ABSOLUTELY NO GOOD REASON."

"Uh, it's complicated but basically-"

Papyrus glared. "I DO NOT CARE WHAT THE REASON IS, IT IS NOT A GOOD ONE! THERE IS NEVER A GOOD REASON TO HOLD A GRUDGE. YOU STAYING HERE WILL NOT ONLY HEAL YOUR SOUL, IT WILL ALSO ALLOW SANS TO GET OVER HIS PETTY GRUDGE! IT WILL KILL TWO BIRDS IN ONE STONE! A GENIUS IDEA!"

She couldn't help but feel touched. No monster had been so kind to her before, not even Flowey. 

"I...thank you, Papyrus. That's really sweet of you."

"BUT OF COURSE IT IS! YOU SHOULD EXPECT NOTHING LESS OF SOMEONE SO GREAT!"

Frisk smiled. 

And somewhere deep inside her, something felt a little lighter for it.

 

* * *

 

When Sans came back, shortcutting straight into the living room, it was to find the anomaly and Papyrus sitting on the sofa together companionably and watching one of Mettaton's sit-coms. Papyrus had a bowl of spaghetti and a steady stream of commentary running: "OH! THAT POSE JUST THEN WAS SPECTACULAR!" and "OH MY, HOW IS HE GOING TO GET OUT OF THIS?" The anomaly occasionally had their -  _her -_ own feedback, too - "Damn, that family trees' as twisted as your spaghetti" and "Wow...that was...something." 

He'd ended up right by the door, and either due to their inattention or sheer obliviousness, neither noticed him. That gave Sans a moment to do what he did best: observe.

He couldn't deny that instinct screamed at him to get that mass-murdering freak away from his brother. He couldn't deny that just seeing them, her, whatever, made a rush of hatred and anger and fear rise up in his soul. 

But Sans was logical, and Sans was fair - as fair as he could be, when Papyrus was involved. Past experiences with a child wearing that woman's face dictated he kill the anomaly on sight, by any means possible. But he'd seen her soul. He'd felt her soul. It was different from  _theirs._

When he'd first seen them after that reset, dust speckled across the front of their shirt and a knife in one hand, he hadn't recognized them for a moment.

You see, monsters were primarily soul-based creatures made out of magic instead of physical matter. Humans were opposite, physical creatures with a phenomenonally powerful soul. And so, whereas humans focused almost entirely on the physical, monsters focused almost entirely on the magical. Humans saw creatures' physical forms; monsters sensed their souls.

Obviously, this ambient sense didn't go very deeply - prying into others's souls was invasive and offensive. But monsters recognized each other by the unique magic each soul gave off, and they recognized humans in the same way. Most monsters only used this during encounters, when it was deemed acceptable to feel another's soul (whether this encounter was a fight or a date dictated how far one could go). However, the more powerful monsters - the Froggits, Tsunderplane, Aaron, all those who'd fought the anomaly - used this ability all the time. 

When Sans had first seen the anomaly, he'd felt their soul and something deep inside him had whispered  _wrong._ Papyrus and Undyne and all the other monsters who'd met the anomaly had agreed with him; all had felt that creeping unease, that fingernail-on-chalkboard sense that something was openly, blaringly wrong with the human's soul.

Because they didn't feel human anymore.

It had taken him awhile, maybe a dozen loads, but he'd finally figured out what it was. 

"NO! METTATON MUST REUNITE WITH HIS STAR-CROSSED LOVER! THEY MUST GET THEIR HAPPY ENDING!" 

The anomaly eyed him, looking faintly amused, but said nothing.

Sans allowed himself a huff - they really weren't observant, were they? Then he continued to think.

Sans, for his low physical strength, was fairly strong magically. What made him exceptional, though, was that he was attuned to his and others's souls in a way not many monsters were. It was why he was able to turn souls blue instantly, while Muffet, Papyrus, and Undyne - strong warriors in their own right - had to make contact first. He wasn't sure how, just like he wasn't sure why he was the only one who remembered resets as clearly, but he could sense souls at a level no one else could. It was why everyone liked him - he knew what to say, how to say it, and when to do so.

So when Sans had focused enough on their soul, when he'd felt it shatter time after time, he'd finally realized. 

There wasn't just one human in there. There were two. Two consciousnesses, two willpowers, one soul. They didn't feel human because they'd gone beyond the definition of it. The amount of determination, the types of determination residing in the anomaly's soul, rendered them part human and part something else - a travesty of nature, an amalgamate worse than anything Alphys could ever have created.

But, as Sans stared at this anomaly's soul, at  _her_ soul, he only sensed human. One human.

It was strangely ironic that sensing a human soul made him relieved. After all, for months he'd lived through timelines of being told to capture any humans and hand them over to be slaughtered. It used to be that sensing human souls filled him with dread - dread of what he had to do. Then the anomaly's soul wasn't human anymore, and the dread he felt wasn't over his actions, but theirs. 

But this anomaly was different. This one was fully and completely human. Broken and battered, but still human. Almost disgustingly human, really, but then no one had asked him, a monster, what he thought about humans. 

However, Sans was fair, and in any case he'd Judged her already - she didn't deserve the death  _they_ did. She hadn't done anything worse than saying some bitter words to a friend or slapping a guy in the face for looking at her wrong. 

That still didn't mean he had to like her, though, Sans thought sourly as Papyrus turned to her and shouted out his disbelief over something Mettaton had just done.

Papyrus could befriend her all he wanted to, now that Sans was reasonably certain she wasn't a threat. Sans refused to do the same until he could look her in the eyes without seeing  _their_ eyes, cold and determined, staring back at him. He refused to do the same until he could hear her voice without sensing Chara's underneath it. He refused to do the same until he could touch her and not feel Paps's dust coating her skin. 

In all honesty, that probably wouldn't happen until hell froze over, or until the monsters got to the surface - whichever was the more unlikely of the two. 

Sans took a step forward. In any case, she was leaving soon and he hopefully wouldn't have to deal with her for awhile, assuming she wasn't fond of resets. He didn't believe her promise about never coming back. Not for one second. The kid had promised him, once, never to reset again. Just look where that'd gotten them. 

He sighed. Enough of that. He'd thought about the anomalies enough for a lifetime. He needed a distraction. And as much as he hated watching Mettaton, this was too convenient to ignore.

"Hey bro, what's up?" 

Papyrus spun around. Sans didn't miss the anomaly's instinctive jerk at the sound of his voice. 

"SANS! YOU LAZYBONES, WHAT TOOK YOU SO LONG! I HAVE COME UP WITH A GENIUS SOLUTION TO OUR PROBLEMS BUT HAVE HAD TO WAIT FOR THREE HOURS IN ORDER TO TELL YOU!"

"Sorry bro, I'm just tired. _Bone_ tired, you could say."

"SANS!"

"Sorry, sorry. You were saying?"

"AH, YES." Papyrus stood up and clapped his hands. "AS I WAS SAYING, I HAVE FOUND A WAY TO SOLVE TWO PROBLEMS AT ONCE! TWO BIRDS WITH ONE STONE, AS THE HUMANS SAY! YOU SEE, WE CANNOT LET FRISK LEAVE WITH HER SOUL LIKE THAT, CAN WE? AND YOU ARE HOLDING A COMPLETELY NONSENSICAL GRUDGE ON HER THAT YOU NEED TO GET OVER!"

If Sans had had a stomach, it would've dropped. He had a bad feeling he knew where this was going.

"THEREFORE! THE SOLUTION! FRIENDS ARE GOOD FOR EMOTIONAL HEALING, ARE THEY NOT? AND FRISK IS IN NEED OF HEALING. SO, YOU SHALL BECOME HER FRIEND AND HEAL HER SOUL!"

Yep, he'd been right. "Bro, I don't think-"

"EXACTLY! YOU DON'T THINK! HOLDING A GRUDGE IS HARMFUL TO YOUR HEALTH, SO GETTING OVER IT WILL BE BENEFICIAL TO YOU! BOTH OF YOU WILL BE HEALING AT THE SAME TIME. IT IS A BRILLIANT PLAN!"

"Not that I don't think it is, but aren't you, uh, already friends with th- her? Isn't your friendship enough to, uh...heal her, or whatever? I mean, you're such a great friend and all."

"YOU ARE RIGHT! INDEED I AM. BUT FRISK NEEDS MORE THAN JUST ME, AND YOU NEED FRIENDS TOO, SANS."

Well. Paps had him there. Still, he had to make one last effort.

"Paps, I just don't know if I'd be the best friend. Y'know, don't have a whole lot going on up here," Sans pointed to his skull, "and I'm heartless, so to speak, and-"

"SANS! YOUR PUNS WILL NOT GET YOU OUT OF THIS!" Papyrus stamped a foot. "THIS IS FINAL!"

Sans sighed. He'd resigned himself to this eventuality from the beginning, but he'd still tried anyway. "'kay, bro."

He looked over at the anomaly. She looked just as resigned as he did, which made him feel a little better. At least someone was just as unhappy as he was. 

"NOW, FRISK, SANS. YOU WILL SHAKE HANDS AND DECLARE YOUR FRIENDSHIP FOR EACH OTHER!"

"Shake hands?" that was the anomaly, giving Papyrus a dubious look.

"I think Paps's other idea would be a hug, so just let it be," Sans muttered.

"Oh. Shaking hands is, uh, fine then." She didn't look fine with it - Sans imagined she was just as averse to the idea of touching him as he was with her.

It was ironic, really. When he'd first met the anomaly, he'd greeted them with a whoopie cushion and a handshake. 

Sans extended one bony hand. The anomaly eyed it dubiously, maybe a bit distastefully, and extended her own. There was a moment of awkward silence when neither of them wanted to make contact, but then finally Sans clasped his hand in hers and gave it a firm shake. 

"GOOD! NOW PROCLAIM YOUR FRIENDSHIP!"

Again, an awkward silence. The two of them looked at each other, at Papyrus, then back at each other. 

"Um...I'm glad to be your friend?" The anomaly gave Sans an uncertain look.

"Likewise," he muttered, giving a one-shoulder shrug in response.

"ALRIGHT! NOW, I SHALL COOK DINNER, AND THE TWO OF YOU WILL SIT ON THE COUCH TOGETHER LIKE CIVILIZED INDIVIDUALS AND WATCH TV!"

"But-" the anomaly started.

"NO BUTS!"

She subsided and sat back down on the couch. Sans joined her.

Well, he thought, at least he knew one thing.  _They_ would never have shaken his hand like that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm just gonna say, real quick, since someone mentioned this and my response was not as well-put as I'd have wished: I truly and deeply believe that Chara is a bad person.
> 
> Even if you're just going off the pacifist route, we learn that Chara poisoned herself and arranged her own death, then told Asriel to absorb her soul. We don't know her intentions - they could've been for Asriel to pass the barrier and then collect six more human souls to break the barrier, or they could've been to wage war on the humans. Since Chara hated humans, I'm betting on the latter. But in any case, Asriel said himself that he didn't think Chara was a nice person. And this is when SHE HAD A SOUL. 
> 
> That's completely forgoing the genocide route where (admittedly soulless) Chara murdered at the very least two people (Sans and Flowey's deaths were out of the player's control), and was either accomplice to or perpetrator of killing the entire Underground. Then there's the whole soul trading business. 
> 
> Uh, yeah, I kinda think she's a bad person. Sorry.


End file.
